


Welcome to the Working Week

by lamujerarana



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Drama, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6023107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamujerarana/pseuds/lamujerarana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starts with the events of Marvel Knights 4, where the FF's money is all swindled away, and they lose their home, so Johnny and Peter become roommates.</p><p>Johnny’s determined to prove to Reed, Sue, and Ben–-and most of all himself–-that he can pull this off, that he can stand on his own two feet, that he’s not just a pampered playboy, so he’s willing to do whatever it takes.</p><p>He’s never spent so much time around Peter before. He’s never had a chance to see Peter’s life close up or realize what an amazing person he really is, and not just because of his ability to pull off skintight spandex.</p><p>Eventually, he realizes. Maybe he had to lose all of the things he thought he needed in order to find the one thing he's always wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to the Working Week

Johnny’s waiting for his sister on the stoop of an old, dilapidated building in Washington Heights.

It’s not a great neighborhood, which is all he can think as he looks around. The buildings here are nothing like the shimmering spires of steel and concrete he’s used to. These are all worn-down brick and just hideous.

But the FF have lost their fortunes—swindled away by a dishonest accountant—and now Johnny might actually have to live here. Permanently.

He’s not pleased about that.

Ben is sitting on the steps just beneath him, reading out loud from some travel guide about the neighborhood.

“Yadda, yadda, yadda,” Johnny grouses. “Washington Heights? Does this even count as New York?”

Johnny looks around and wrinkles his nose in disgust. It doesn’t look like any New York he approves of, that's for sure.

There’s trash on the streets that looks like it’s been there for weeks, but no one’s bothered to pick it up. And the cement definitely smells like urine.

Sue bursts out of the front door before Ben can reply. She seems excited, so it’s probably good news. They could all really use some. They’ve been wearing themselves out all week, going back and forth all around New York, trying desperately to find some place that is willing to take four down-on-their-luck superheroes, each place they look at progressively worse than the last. This, Johnny thinks, is definitely rock-bottom.

It's worse than _Queens_ , for god's sake. How's he supposed to make fun of Peter if he's living in a worse neighborhood? God, he can't even believe this is happening.

“Ben—Johnny—we’re in!” she announces brightly. “We’ll put Val’s crib in our bedroom, and Franklin will have to sleep with you, but don’t worry—we’ll set up a bed in the living room. It’ll be tight, but we’ll manage.”

“Sure we will, Suzie,” Ben says bravely.

Johnny disagrees. “Whoa-whoa-whoa. What do you mean, Franklin will have to sleep with you? Who’s you?”

Johnny hopes that she doesn’t say his nephew will be sleeping in his room. He loves his nephew, but a young, good-looking guy needs his space, y’know? Did he mention that he has a very, very hot supermodel girlfriend?

The answer is worse than he’d been dreading. “You and Ben, of course,” Sue says cheerfully, as though it’s not a big deal at all, when it is, of course it is, how can it not be?

Johnny and Ben both stare at her, speechless, for a moment, before sharing a look of horror.

“Is that really how it’s gotta be, Suzie?” Ben complains.

“No way!” Johnny says at the same time. “No way am I bunking with the Great Pumpkin!”

Sue immediately tries to soothe both of them. “We can’t afford separate rooms, Johnny. We’ve been over this,” she says in a calm, reasonable voice.

Johnny’s having none of it. “Number One,” he starts, jabbing a finger at his sister, “Ben _smells_. You do, Ben, I’m sorry. Number Two, Ben snores. Number Three, I’m twenty five years old—where are me and my girlfriend supposed to go when we want a little privacy?”

Ben seems to find this all endlessly amusing. “Mebbe we can rig a system,” he snickers. “You know, a baseball cap on the knob means—heh-heh—do not disturb.”

Johnny shoots him a look that clearly says, “Drop dead."

“The fact is,” Sue tells Johnny firmly, “we’re all going to have to make some sacrifices.”

That’s not fair. That’s not fair at all. It’s not like Johnny hasn’t given up so much for his family already. 

Everyone always pretends that he’s so selfish all the time, and Johnny’s sick of it. He’s never been that, but no one’s ever been able to see it. They all look at him and they see a rich, spoiled, pampered playboy who's always had it too easy, and nothing else. It hurts that that’s all Sue sees too. She should know better. “Uh, newsflash,” he says bitterly, “my entire _life_ has been a series of sacrifices! Ever since Reed made us—”

“Don’t, Johnny,” Sue pleads. “Don’t say it. If you say it out loud, you can never take it back, you know that.”

Johnny does know that, and it’s probably why he’s never said it out loud before. But it’s been on the tip of his tongue for years.

Reed took a naive, trusting fifteen-year-old boy, and he turned him into something that’s...not quite human. He looks human and he sounds human, but he isn’t, not really, not anymore. Reed took Johnny's humanity away from him, and Johnny will never get it back.

During Johnny’s darkest moments, he wonders if the word he’s really looking for is "monster." He’s never told anyone and never would, because he loves Reed too much to ever risk it getting back to him, but there are times when he feels like one. (After the fire he unthinkingly started at ESU, the word rang through his mind over and over and over, like a relentless chant, until he thought he'd go mad from it.)

It’s been the undercurrent of his relationship with Reed and Sue for years. Johnny was just a stupid kid who didn’t know any better when he went up in that spaceship. It was Sue’s responsibility—Sue’s and Reed’s—to keep him safe, and they failed, they _both_ failed, and Johnny’s life has never been the same.

It’s not that he hates being a superhero, it’s not that he hates his powers, because he doesn’t—most of the time he loves every second of it—but sometimes, in the dead of night, when he’s all alone with the thoughts he spends so much time trying to outrun, he’ll wonder what his life would have been like if he hadn’t had these powers shoved on him so early, before he really knew how to handle all of the fame, fortune, danger, and heartbreak that came with them.

Because the rest of them? They were all adults when they got their powers. They got the chance to grow up, have somewhat normal childhoods. They were more mature, and they knew what they were doing when they agreed to become superheroes. They understood the risks in a way Johnny never did. He just thought it was fun. Dressing up in costumes, beating up bad guys. He thought he was a hero like the ones in the movies, and he loved it. He was a dumb kid—what did he know?

These days, now that he’s gained some maturity and distance, he’s started to wonder what it all cost him. He wonders too if it was worth the price he pays every day. Worth everything he's lost. Worth every girl, every guy, who’s ever slipped through his fingers. Worth his marriage to Lyja, worth Mike Snow’s scarred face, worth the burned halls of Empire State, worth his father’s life, worth every chance for happiness he’s ever had.

Because he understands now. Fame, fortune, glory, that doesn’t bring happiness.

Everyone always thinks that his relationships are so short-lived because he’s a player—and there’s some truth to that, he guesses—but it’s not just that. It’s also because he’s afraid. He’s afraid of letting anyone too close, letting them in, because he’s terrified that one day they’ll get hurt, and it’ll be because of him. Whether it’s because of his powers or because of his bad guys, what’s the difference? It’ll still be because of the costs of this life, the life that was thrust on him, the life he sometimes feels he had no choice in.

More than anything, Johnny’s always wanted a family—kids, and someone at his side who loves him—but he doesn’t know how he can have that with these powers. The one thing he wants most, and he’ll maybe never have it. He’ll maybe never be happy, not really.

He finds that he can hardly even stand to look at his sister. He’s seething with resentment. He needs some time away from her, some distance. Needs to sort through everything this latest family disaster has dredged up. He’s not sure what it’ll mean for him and Sue.

“Look, sis,” he says, “I appreciate what you’re doing—trying to keep us under one roof—but maybe this is a sign. Maybe we shouldn’t live together, maybe we should take a break.”

“With no job and no money,” Sue says, ever the sensible one, “where will you go? Where will you live?”

“I’m not a leper, Sue,” he tells her as he calls up his power and starts to burst into flames. “I have friends, okay? They have couches.”

The fire envelops his body now—it took Johnny a long time to get used to the feeling of being covered in flames, and even now, when he does it, a little part of him is still afraid that this is the time something’ll go wrong, that this is the time he’ll burn. But it doesn’t happen this time either.

He doesn’t know why, but he shouts, “Flame on!”

It's his old catchphrase, the one he used to shout when he was a stupid, stupid kid who thought he was a hero straight out of the movies.

He takes off towards the blue, blue sky and races towards the afternoon sun.

This is one part of his powers he doesn't think he'll ever grow tired of.

* * *

He takes off for his girlfriend’s, but Kourtney dumps him on the spot. He’s yesterday’s news, she says, and she’s a supermodel—she can’t be seen with welfare cases. Besides, she’s cheating on him with Keanu Reeves, because he’s today’s news, unlike Johnny.

Shows how much she loved him. Maybe it’s for the best.

Johnny knew it was never going to work when she started being all irritated about having to go to Franklin's birthday party last week. He can't date someone who's that catty about a kid's birthday party.

* * *

He wonders who he should go to next as he floats above Manhattan. Who else might be willing to give him a spot on their couch? Who else is he friendly enough with?

Jen's out of town on a lengthy Avengers mission, so that's out of the question. The more he thinks, the more he starts to realize that he doesn't have friends as much as he has people he's friendly with at work. He's got plenty of buddies in the superhero community who'd help him take down a baddie, no problem, but no one he's close enough to for a favor like this.

He's sort of at his wit's end when it hits him. The answer is so obvious, he doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it earlier. Peter Parker. His BFF, and one of the most compassionate people Johnny knows. There’s no way Pete will turn him down. All he needs to do is make sad eyes at him, and Pete’ll do anything to help.

Not that it means Johnny's special. Peter’d do that for anyone, and that’s what makes Peter so special.

Peter even called after the news broke about the FF having lost all of their money. “Anything I can do for you, buddy,” he'd said, “you just let me know.”

There’s an opening right there.

Where’s Pete living now, again? Peter’s working as a teacher, he remembers, at his old high school. Queens, then.

Ugh. Queens. This is a sign of how desperate Johnny is, that he's even considering taking up permanent residence somewhere like Queens.

He takes off in that direction. It’s about two in the afternoon—high schools usually get out around three or so, right? Johnny’ll just wait around for Peter, ask him out to dinner, fish around for an invitation to crash on his couch.

Pete’ll probably be overjoyed to see him.

* * *

Johnny flirts with the receptionist in the main office, signs a few autographs, poses for a few pictures, before he finally gets directions to the room Pete’s in.

Thirty minutes, they tell him, until school is out.

* * *

He peers through the glass in the narrow blue door. There’s Pete at the chalkboard, dressed in a suit and tie. He’s got his jacket off, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Doesn’t look bad, actually, if a tad too nerdy for Johnny's tastes, but that’s Pete for you.

Johnny presses his back against the cool white wall, sticks his hands in his pockets, and waits.

* * *

The bell finally rings, the kids all stream out, laughing and joking, all eager to get the heck out of school.

None of them even give him a second glance. 

Johnny's a trifle offended. He'd've thought at least one of them would have noticed a bona fide superhero—dressed in a flame-covered shirt, no less—standing outside their classroom door.

* * *

He waits until the door doesn’t open again, then peers inside.

Hmm. Pete’s talking softly to a nerdy-looking black girl with bushy hair and a long, worried face. Johnny decides it’s best if he keeps waiting outside.

He watches as Pete says something, face kind, and then smiles encouragingly at her. She smiles back at him gratefully and then heads for the door.

There’s Pete for you. All heart, and that's what Johnny's counting on.

Johnny moves aside to let her by, and then saunters in. Peter’s at his desk, putting stacks of papers—quizzes, worksheets—in his narrow brown briefcase.

“Hey, Pete,” Johnny says cheerfully. “How’s it hangin’?”

Peter looks up at him and blinks, surprised. “Johnny?” he says. “What are you doing here?”

“Geez,” Johnny replies indignantly. “Can’t a guy just come see his best bud at work?”

“Of course you can. You’ve just never, ever, ever done it before, Flamebrain. Something about not being caught dead in Queens,” Peter points out dryly. His thick brown eyebrows knit together. “Do you need something? Is everything okay?”

"Uh, no, actually, since you're asking," Johnny says, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. "Sue and I sort of had an argument, and I...kind of need a place to crash, buddy." His mouth twists. “I just can’t stay with her right now. I need to think about some things.”

Peter shakes his head and tuts at Johnny. "That sucks, Torchy. You should really get on that."

Johnny shoots Peter a look. He knows Peter's just messing with him. "Stop being a jerk," he snaps. "So can I stay with you or can't I?"

Peter sticks the last few piles of papers into his briefcase before he answers. "Yeah," he says, not very enthusiastically. Johnny's offended. Peter should be overjoyed to have Johnny staying with him. "Course you can. What are friends for? I've even got an extra guest room. You're welcome to it, buddy, for as long as you want."

“Yeah?” Johnny says, smiling at Peter, pleased. A whole room to himself. That’s better than Johnny’d hoped. He'd really been shooting for a couch, at best.

Peter gives a quick nod. “Just to warn you, it’s not big or fancy or like anything you’re probably used to, but it’ll do."

Oh, is that what Pete's worrying about? Johnny was afraid for a second there that he didn't want Johnny to live with him.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down, pal,” Johnny says, touched, and walks around the desk to Peter and throws his arms around his neck, reeling him in for a hug. Shockingly, Peter actually lets him, even if he makes an annoyed little huff against Johnny's ear.

Doesn't matter. At the moment, Peter Parker is his favorite person on the planet.

Peter pats him on the back awkwardly. He's...not the best hugger.

“Okay, Johnny,” Peter says after the hug goes on a tad too long. “Enough with the hugging. It’s getting weird. One of my students or co-workers might walk by and get the wrong idea. Everyone already thinks it’s weird that I’m this hot and still single. I don’t need them all thinking I’m hot for the Human Torch too.”

“Everyone’s hot for me, Pete,” Johnny scoffs as he pulls back. “That’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

Peter shoots him a look. “Nobody’s hot for you, Johnny. Literally nobody.”

“I dunno. I’ve had sex with a lot of people who’d beg to differ,” Johnny sniffs.

Peter sighs and rolls his eyes. “Okay, that’s, what, like ten people?”

Johnny raises his eyebrows at Peter. “You really think I’ve only ever slept with ten people? Peter, I’ve slept with more _guys_ than that the past few months, and that’s just the guys.”

Hey, he and Kourtney were only exclusive for a month, so he wasn’t cheating. Apart from Kourtney, none of it meant anything anyways.

For Johnny sex is like…going to the movies. It’s fun, it’s relaxing, and it doesn’t hurt anybody. It’s not hard for someone like Johnny to find people who are young, hot, and ready and willing to sleep with the Human Torch.

He’s doing them a favor, really, by giving them a chance to sleep with a celebrity superhero. Give them stuff to brag about for years.

“Stop showing off,” Peter says, irritated. “You know I hate it when you show off.”

“It’s not my fault you’re going through a dry spell. By which I mean your life.”

“I sleep with people.”

Johnny snorts. “Really? Name one person you’ve slept with in the past month who isn't you.”

“I’ve been busy,” Peter sniffs. “Fighting bad guys. And—” He gestures at the classroom. “Working."

“I’ve been fighting bad guys too, but I still found time to have a little fun on the side."

“Well, we’re not all you, Flamebrain. Some of us have more trouble picking up dates, because _we_ aren’t rich and famous. Now that you’re poor you might have more trouble with that too, just FYI.”

“I’m still handsome. Being poor didn’t suddenly make me ugly. And I resent the implication that people sleep with me just because I'm famous. It's also because I'm _muy caliente_.”

Peter shoots him a look. “It's mostly because you're famous, and you’d be amazed at how quickly people forget about someone like you.”

“I am not a has-been!” Johnny shouts, annoyed. “Why does everyone keep telling me that today? That’s the same thing Kourtney said when she—” He cuts himself off.

Peter's eyes widen. “Your girlfriend broke up with you?” 

“Yeah,” Johnny says sullenly. “Like an hour ago.”

“Oh,” Peter says awkwardly. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

Johnny gives Peter a half smile. “’s okay. I didn’t like her that much anyways. She wasn’t very nice to Franklin, and she snored as loud as Ben.”

“Oh, she did not. You’re just making that up.”

Johnny holds up a hand. “Swear to god. Almost shattered my ear drums.”

Peter ducks his head and chuckles at that. “C’mon,” he says, throwing a friendly arm around Johnny’s shoulders and snagging his briefcase from his desk. “Let’s go check out your new digs. You’re gonna hate it.”

“Probably,” Johnny admits, letting Peter lead him towards the door. “There's just one more teeny tiny thing, buddy.”

“What now?” Peter says, frowning back at him with his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m kind of a little bit broke too.”

Peter just stares at him for a beat, and then guffaws. “You. Broke. Oh, man. What a day. A day I never thought I'd live to see.”

“It’s not funny,” Johnny says, miffed. “I’m not like you. I’m not used to being poor.”

"You'll get used to it. Everyone else does. And look, don’t worry about the money too much. I’ve got your back until you’re on your feet again, I swear. Just. You do have to find a job eventually. As soon as possible, really. I don’t get paid enough to support you in the manner to which you’ve become accustomed.”

“Yeah, I know,” Johnny says. “Teachers get horrible salaries.”

“You’re telling me,” Peter agrees.

“It’s pathetic, Peter. Like, _really_ pathetic.”

“At least I get paid, Torchy, which is more than I can say for you right now."

Johnny smirks over at him. “Hey,” he says, just to mess with Peter. "I guess this kind of makes you my sugar daddy now. I'll have to tell Reed his services are no longer required.”

“Oh, god,” Peter groans, doubling over and clutching at his stomach like that statement literally made him ill. “I changed my mind. Offer withdrawn. Find somewhere else to live. There is so much wrong with that statement, I don’t even know where to begin. You have a diseased mind. It's sick and wrong, and you should have your head examined, and also, what's _wrong_ with you?”

Johnny tosses his head back and laughs, delighted, at the look of utter horror on Peter’s face. It’s nice to know he can still find new and amusing ways to mess with Peter’s head, even after ten years of friendship. It’s a talent he wouldn’t trade for anything.

* * *

He makes Peter pose with him for a picture once they get out into the bright sunlight. Johnny throws an arm around Peter's shoulders. Peter’s glaring at Johnny, exasperated, and Johnny’s grinning brightly at the camera.

He sends the picture to Ben and tells him to tell Reed he’s found a new sugar daddy.

“Told Stretch,” Ben texts back later. “Spent twenty minutes explaining what sugar daddy means to him. You owe me.”

Johnny wishes he’d been there for that conversation. He hopes someone filmed it, or at least got a good picture of Reed’s—hopefully horrified—face when he finally understood Johnny’s joke.

Then, Ben texts, “Sue says good luck, and to let her know if you need anything. Goes for me too, squirt.”

Suddenly he feels kind of awful about the way he spoke to Ben and Sue this afternoon. They both mean the world to him, and they…didn’t deserve to be talked to that way. 

He decides he’ll apologize the first chance he gets. He’s supposed to see them tomorrow, after all, when they go move out of the Baxter Building permanently.

Johnny’s not looking forward to saying goodbye to his old home. Yet another thing to depress him.

"Plz tell me u at least got a pic of Reed's face," he texts Ben.

* * *

Ben did. He texts the picture to Johnny, and he and Peter spend about ten minutes giggling at it. 

Johnny makes it the icon on his phone for Reed's number. Now he'll be reminded of it every time Reed calls. Genius.

* * *

Johnny looks around the neighborhood as they walk from Midtown High to Peter's apartment and sighs. 

"Jesus," he complains to Peter. "I can't believe I've gotta live in Queens. What self-respecting superhero lives in Queens?"

Peter rounds on him and glares, arms crossed. He reminds Johnny of Sue, and that's not a good thing.

"What?" Johnny asks, confused by Peter's reaction. He was expecting agreement or commiseration, not indignation and annoyance. "What did I say?"

" _I_ live in Queens," Peter growls. "I _grew_ _up_ here. For god's sake, Johnny, can you at least _try_ not to be a snob for five minutes? You're really in no position to be at the moment, y'know. You're just as broke as anyone else who lives around here. Even more so, because you're unemployed, and they aren't, mostly."

Johnny scowls. He wants to argue...but Peter's actually got a point. "You know, no one likes you when you're being all self-righteous and preachy."

"Well," Peter snaps. "It's better than being a total snob."

Johnny snorts. "That's what you think. No one else does."

Peter looks up at the sky, lets out a long exhale, and marches off. Johnny has to run after him to catch up.

* * *

“Well,” Peter says, coming to a halt outside of a six-story apartment building. “This’s the place.” He crosses his arms and looks at Johnny as though he's daring him to say something.

Johnny squints up at it. Doesn’t look _too_ bad, he thinks. Better than he'd thought. Better than the building Sue and Ben and Reed are gonna live in, anyhow.

This one's solidly respectable, working-to-maybe-lower-middle-class, but not fancy.

Of course, it's a major step down from the Baxter Building.

"You live in a dump," he says.

Peter sighs and rolls his eyes as though that's exactly the reaction he was expecting and pulls out his keys. “The inside's not any better, just to warn you."

While Peter's opening the front door—"It sticks," he tells Johnny coolly—a little old lady carrying a brown paper bag filled with groceries walks up behind them. 

"You gotta twist it more to the left, or it'll never open," she tells Peter with a thick, thick Queens accent, exactly like the one Peter'll occasionally break into still, especially when he's really, really angry. There are traces of it in the way he normally speaks, even. "You've been living here how long and you still can't get that door to open?" She tuts and shakes her head.

Peter stops what he's doing as soon as he hears her voice, smiles at her, and says, "Mrs. Lemkin! And how's my favorite lady doing today?"

Johnny's mouth twists. Yeah, now _her_ he's nice to. Peter's a sucker for old ladies. Always stops to take care of them, help them out if he can. Johnny figures it probably has to do with his aunt. 

"Good," she says. "My joints aren't actin' up, at least. Hey, I'm makin' rugelach. You want I should put some aside for you?"

Peter finally gets the door to open, sticks his keys in his pocket, and says, "Yeah, I would love that. You know I love your baking." He points at her grocery bag. "Need help carrying that? It looks heavy."

Mrs. Lemkin hands the bag over, and peers at Johnny over her cheaply-made, wire-rimmed glasses. "Such a nice boy, he is," she tells Johnny. "Always helps me with my groceries, fixes my TV for me and my toaster." She raises her eyebrows. "And who might you be?"

"Johnny Storm," he replies, sticking his hand out. "Looks like I'm moving in to Peter's place."

Peter grumbles something under his breath. Johnny ignores him.

"Oh," she says, taking his hand and patting it. "How nice! Peter's such a lonely boy. He could use the company, and such good-looking company too!" She turns to Peter. "He's a looker, that one is. Mazel tov."

Johnny tries not to laugh at the mortified look on Peter's face. "I'll be plenty of company, Mrs. Lemkin, believe me."

* * *

Peter insists on helping Mrs. Lemkin carry her groceries all the way to her kitchen, and even puts them away for her.

She can't seem to stop singing his praises to Johnny the whole time and sends them on their way with a small tin of cookies she baked yesterday. 

Peter explains, once the door's shut, that her husband died two years ago, and both of her daughters were killed in a car accident a few years back, so she's pretty lonely these days. He tries to help out as much as he can. In return, she gives him far too many cookies. 

Johnny rolls his eyes and says, "Pushover."

Secretly, he can't help but feel a surge of admiration for Peter.

* * *

In the hallway on their way back to the stairs, they run into Mrs. Butler and her eight-year-old daughter, Lilah. 

Lilah seems very fond of Peter—the second she sees him, her little brown face cracks into a delighted smile. She tugs on her mother's skirt, asking for permission, and then skips over to him and gives him a big hug. 

"Hey," Peter says, grinning, crouching down so he's at eye level with her. "So how have you been doing with your multiplication lately?"

She says proudly, "Good! I got an 'A' on my last quiz! Mommy bought me ice cream afterwards."

"Oh, really?" Peter says, squinting at her. "I guess that means that you can tell me what four times two is?"

She thinks about it a little, and then holds up eight fingers.

Peter gasps and says, "That's right! A _ma_ zing. You're so smart, Lilah." He holds up his hand. "That kind of awesomeness deserves a high five, I think."

Lilah grins and obliges, smacks her little hand against Peter's.

Mrs. Butler walks up to Johnny with a warm, fond smile on her face and says hi. She asks how he knows Peter.

Johnny tells her he's going to be living with Pete, and she instantly brightens. "Good," she says. "It'll be nice to know he's got someone."

"Oh, boy," Peter says, frowning up at them. "Does everyone in this building think I'm lonely?"

Mrs. Butler arches an eyebrow. "You're always alone in that apartment of yours, Peter. We hardly ever see you invite anyone over, except your aunt and Ms. Watson."

"I'm just _busy_ ," Peter protests, getting to his feet. "I'm not a loner, or a—"

"Total loser?" Johnny supplies helpfully.

Peter levels a cool glare at him for that. "Or that."

"Nobody thinks that, Peter," Mrs. Butler reassures him.

Johnny raises his hand and says, "I do."

Mrs. Butler just gives him a look, reaches out and shoves his hand down without comment, and keeps talking. "We just think you're a nice boy who's a little lonely, and, well—" She pats Peter's arm. "—you know we all care about you."

Peter's face turns a little pink, and he grumbles something under his breath. "Hey," he says, squinting at her. "Is this why you all always stop by and bring me cakes and cookies and things?"

"Erm," Mrs. Butler says. "How's your aunt?"  

"Oh, good," Peter says. "You know. Good."

"Tell her I want that apple pie recipe the next time you see her, would you?"

"Oh, sure, I can do that."

"Oh, and Peter, there's just one more thing," she says hesitantly. "I almost hate to ask."

It turns out Mrs. Butler's fridge is broken, so Peter spends thirty minutes fixing it for her. 

* * *

By the time they make it up to Peter's apartment, it's been about an hour and a half since they walked into the building. Everyone they come across says hello to Peter and stops to chat, and most of them want favors, and Peter never says no.

"Sorry," Peter mutters to Johnny, embarrassed, when they finally make it to his door. "You know how it is."

No, Johnny actually doesn't. Peter seems pretty beloved by everyone in his building. Johnny doesn't know what that's like at all.

He knows what it's like to be a celebrity, but adored like this, the way Peter is, just because of who he is? That he doesn't know.

* * *

The living room is messy, full of half-eaten pizza boxes, board games, video games, toy collections—Johnny’s been to Peter’s before, so he’s not surprised by the fact that Peter’s a bit of slob.

“You’re kind of a slob, Pete,” he says anyways, just to rub it in.

“And you aren’t?” Peter shoots back. “I’ve been in your bedroom, remember.”

Johnny shrugs. “Guess I’m just used to Sue cleaning up after me in the, you know, _shared_ living spaces.”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “I will not be doing that, just FYI. You make a mess, you clean it up.”

Johnny sighs like it’s a huge burden. “I guess,” he says. “If I have to. Maybe I can get Reed to build us a robot maid.”

“No robot maids,” Peter says, shaking his head. “With our luck, she’d just go evil and strangle us in our sleep.”

“True that,” Johnny says. He glances at the doors that are probably hiding the bedrooms. “So which one’s mine?”

Peter points at a door to the left, and Johnny opens it cautiously. He pokes his head in and looks around. The room is small and tidy, with a neatly-made, queen-sized bed in the center, and funny pictures of cats adorning the walls.

Johnny’s mostly pleased by it—it’s better than wherever he would’ve been living with the FF or the couch he'd been expecting, but he raises his eyebrows at the wall decorations.

"It's really small," he complains, just to needle Peter.

Peter shrugs. “My Aunt May uses it every now and then when she visits. It wasn't supposed to be anyone's actual room.”

“Can I at least take the pictures down? Please say yes. They’re kind of creepy. I don’t know if I can sleep with all of those cats staring at me. I've had some bad experiences with cats.”

“If you want, but don’t throw them out. Aunt May likes them. She’ll ask me where they went. You’re explaining it to her.”

“I’m cool with that.”

“Is the room okay, then?” Peter checks.

“Yeah, I guess,” Johnny says. “Uh...I guess I should probably say thanks for doing this for me. Not everyone would have. You’re a good friend, no matter how much grief I give you.”

“Hey,” Peter says, putting a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “After all the times you and your family have helped me out, putting up with your whining is the least I could do, pal.”

"Yeah, well, I'm the one who's gonna have to put up with your stinky socks, so I think we're even."

* * *

Johnny sits at Peter’s kitchen table, munching on Mrs. Lemkin's cookies, and watches Peter putter around the kitchen as he makes them dinner.

“What?” Peter says when he catches him watching. “Haven’t you ever seen a guy fix dinner?”

“Yeah,” Johnny shrugs. “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you do it. This—all of what I've seen today—it's a side of you I never get to see. It’s nice to know you’re not always a loudmouthed show-off. I mean, it's a little bit of a shock, really."

He’s a little surprised when finds he's smiling very, very fondly at Peter.

Peter turns around quickly, and Johnny’s smile widens when he notices the tips of Peter’s ears are pink.

“Yeah, well,” Peter says with mock annoyance, “you could help a fella out instead of being a lazy, good-for-nothing freeloader.”

“That’s my name,” Johnny jokes. “Don’t wear it out.”

Peter turns to give him a pointed, if somewhat exaggerated, glare. “Seriously.” He puts a cutting board in front of Johnny. “Chop these onions for me. Don’t hurt yourself.” He hands him a knife. “The pointy end goes that way.”

Johnny rolls his eyes and snatches it away from him. “I know how to use a knife, dumbass. I’m not totally useless.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Peter says.

That hits so close to home that it stings, but Johnny doesn’t want to let Peter see it. He bends his head and focuses on chopping the onions expertly, so that they’re all in even little squares, just to show Peter he can do it.

He looks up to find Peter’s staring at him, shocked. “What?” he grins cheekily. “You’ve never seen a guy chop onions before?”

“No,” Peter says, turning back around to the stove. “I’ve just didn’t know you knew how. I’m a little bit amazed, gotta say. More like floored.”

“I rock at cooking, thanks,” Johnny replies loftily. “You should try my chili.”

“Probably will if we live together long enough,” Peter says.

There are a lot of things about each other that they'll be discovering in the next few weeks, Johnny supposes. He finds he's actually looking forward to learning more about Peter Parker. That's a perk he hadn't even thought about when he asked Pete if he could move in.

Seeing Peter relaxed, humming over a stove, it makes Johnny feel a surge of warm affection. He feels that odd urge to hug Peter again, but that'd probably be weird, and maybe get him kicked out, so he doesn't.

Peter's back suddenly stiffens and he whirls around. “Hey,” he tells Johnny. His eyes light up as a thought strikes him. “That’s right! Since I’m the one who’s bringing home the bacon, you should be the one to actually cook the bacon. And if you're as good a cook as you say....” He plops down across from Johnny, waves a hand regally, and says, “Make me dinner, dear. I’ve been at the office all day, and I’m worn out.”

Johnny shoots him a look. “You’re not serious.”

“Until you get a job, you need to start pulling your own weight around here. That means chores and cooking and laundry,” Peter says. “What? It’s fair and you know it.”

"Aren't my pretty face and sparkling personality enough?"

Peter stares at him with a flat expression and then clutches at his sides as he starts to howl with laughter.

Johnny waits him out patiently. "You done?" he asks when Peter finally quiets down.

"Maybe," Peter says with a small shrug. "Now cook."

"Peter," Johnny wheedles, "now let's talk about this and be sensible."

"It is sensible. Find a job and we'll start splitting stuff. This is what it means to be poor. Doing things you don't like because you have to. Consider this your first lesson in poverty."

Johnny wishes he could argue, but he has no experience with being poor, so he can't. He rises to his feet wearily, chopping board in hand, and sighs. “I hate it when you actually manage to win arguments,” he grouses. "Which I’ll admit is pretty rare, but still.”

“Now, Johnny,” Peter chides. “No one likes a sore loser. Make sure you don’t burn the rice. And you should maybe tidy up in the living room next. It’s pretty messy.”

Johnny sighs again. “I think I maybe made a mistake when I didn’t go live with Sue. She’d never turn me into her servant.”

“Johnny Storm. My servant and personal chef. What a time to be alive,” Peter says gleefully. Johnny's surprised he's not rubbing his hands or twirling the ends of his nonexistent mustache. “I never thought this day would come. Oh, how the tables have turned."

Johnny throws a well-aimed piece of onion at Peter in retaliation. It lands right in his laughing mouth and makes him choke. Johnny smirks. Serves him right for laughing at Johnny’s misfortune.

* * *

Johnny debates internally whether or not he should sabotage the food so that Peter never asks him to cook again, but he decides against it. Peter's gone above and beyond as a friend, and Johnny legitimately owes him.

So he cooks the hell out of that meal. Even Peter has to admit that he did a good job, and can't help but compliment him. 

* * *

"Pete?" Johnny ventures as he frowns down at his plate, suddenly not hungry anymore.

He feels...anxious. He has no idea what the future holds for him. Years of always knowing what his life would basically be like, day in and day out, and now? He has no idea what's going to happen or what he's going to do with his life. 

"Yeah?" Peter replies. 

"I don't know how to be poor."

Peter goes very still and just stares at Johnny for a beat, takes in the long look on his face. Then he puts his fork down, wipes his mouth with a napkin, and says, "There's really not that much to it, pal. You just...get a job, and try not to spend more than you earn."

"But, like, you have to buy food and clothes and things sometimes, and that's apart from rent and other bills. How do you afford all of that?"

"You save up for awhile for the expensive stuff. The rest you just...budget. Carefully."

"Budgets," Johnny says, making a face. "I have to budget now?"

"Well," Peter says, "you have to get a job first."

"Yeah," Johnny says. "About that. I don't even have a BA or a BS, Pete. What kind of jobs am I even qualified to do?" 

"Flipping burgers?"

"Be serious, Pete."

"I am being serious."

Johnny stares at Peter, horrified, and then digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Oh, god," he groans, "why did I quit college? I'm so _stupid_."

"Hey," Peter says. "You're not stupid. You had your reasons. You wanted to focus on superheroing. You know, helping other people. It was a good reason."

"But I should've done it. Just in case. Gotten a job, not counted on Reed paying all of my bills all of my life. I should've, I dunno, made something of myself instead of partying all the time. I dunno. Maybe Sue and Ben and Reed are right. Maybe I am useless."

"You haven't done nothing with your life," Peter replies. "How many times have you saved this planet, just for starters?"

"That was Reed and Sue, really," Johnny says. "I just helped a little."

"It still counts. You've saved so many people's lives. You can't say you haven't done anything with your life, Johnny. It's just not fair."

"So I saved people. It doesn't really help me now, does it? Maybe I _should_ just run back to Sue and Reed and Ben with my tail between my legs. Maybe I really am a stupid, pampered playboy like they think. Maybe I am just another pretty face who's just good for shootin' fire when Reed or Sue tells me to."

"I'm sure they don't really think that, Johnny. Besides, your face isn't that pretty."

"It is so, and you didn't hear Sue today. She thinks I'm selfish. She thinks I never do anything for anyone. But I do, all the time. I've given up so much for my family. And now I've got nothing to show for it. Not even their respect. How is that fair? They all think I'm the same stupid kid I've always been, and I'm not. I don't feel like him anymore at all. I've been _married_ , for god's sake. I've been divorced. Why can't any of them see that? All they see are the wild parties and the stupid pranks. But that's not who I am. It's just what I do to blow off steam."

"So show them you're more than that," Peter says. "Show them you're grown-up now. Get a job, hold it down, pay your bills, stop with the crazy shenanigans. Prove to them you're an adult now."

"I want to," Johnny replies. "I just...don't know how to start."

"The job's the first step. How about working as a mechanic? You've always been good at that."

"I want the thing I do for a living to be something that helps people. Fixing cars is...more of a hobby. I don't want that to be my life."

Peter sits back in his chair and frowns pensively. "We'll have to think about this," he says, but then he leans forward and puts his hand over Johnny's. "But, hey, don't give up. We'll figure this out, buddy. Together."

There it is. Johnny feels like hugging Peter again. He's really gonna have to figure out why that keeps happening. He guesses it might be because Peter believes in him, and he doesn't think anyone ever has before.

He gives Peter a thin smile, and says, "Alright. Thanks, buddy."

"Tell you what," Peter says. "Why don't we both suit up after dinner? We can go out, bash a few bad guys' heads in, maybe go out to the Statue of Liberty and drink a few beers?"

"Don't you have to work tomorrow?" Johnny asks.

"Eh," Peter says. "I can handle a night of no sleep. I've done it many times before."

"Well," Johnny says. "Okay. I'm down with that if you are."

* * *

Johnny's lying down on top of the Statue of Liberty, contemplating the clear night sky and the stars wheeling overhead, enjoying the sensation of having Peter's warm body stretched out next to him. 

There's a half-finished case of beer up by their heads. Johnny's got his latest bottle digging into his abdomen. He lifts his head and takes a sip.

He and Peter do this every now and then—less now that they don't have to resort to meeting in locations that won't give away Peter's secret identity.

Peter's got his mask off, head resting on the arm he's got wedged behind his head. Johnny would sort of rather be staring at him than up at the night sky. 

He feels calm and slow and peaceful in a way he hardly ever does, except around Peter.

"Thanks again for doing all of this for me," Johnny tells Peter for the fiftieth time.

"Oh, god," Peter groans. "You're not going to keep _thanking_ me, are you? I might have to throw you out if you keep doing that."

"No, but I really appreciate it," Johnny says. "I know I'm inconveniencing you."

"You're my best bud," Peter says. "It's not an inconvenience."

"Thanks," he says, pleased. "You're my best bud too."

It's nice to know he really does have some friends outside of his family. Besides, Peter's definitely the best friend he could ever hope for. 

He sags to the left so that his head is resting lightly against Peter's shoulder. He feels Peter's muscles tense and waits a beat to see if Peter'll move away, or tell him to stop being stupid, but he doesn't, so Johnny relaxes. 

They stay up there for hours. They don't say much of consequence.

For Johnny, it's enough knowing that Peter's got his back always, even after he's lost almost everything.

Peter's the best guy he knows. If today's taught him anything, it's that. Not that he would ever, ever tell Peter that he thinks that. 

* * *

The next morning, Johnny finds Sue, Reed, and Ben waiting for him on the steps of the Baxter Building, a moving truck all ready to take away all of their things.

Johnny swallows his pride and apologizes for the things he said the day before. "You guys didn't deserve that," he tells Sue and Ben. "I'm sorry for sayin' it."

They forgive him, of course, the way they always do.

"So you're staying with Peter," Sue says. "What are you doing for money?"

"Peter's helping me out for now," Johnny says. "But I'm gonna get a job."

"A job," Reed says, arching an eyebrow incredulously. "You."

"I bet he gets 'imself fired inside of a week," Ben says.

"A job doing what?" Sue asks skeptically.

Johnny wants to tell them all to go to hell, but instead he tries to answer civilly. He reminds himself he's trying to be grown-up now. "I don't know yet. Peter thinks mechanic, but that doesn't feel right. I'll figure something out."

"Lemme guess. You wanna go back to acting," Ben says dryly. "Cause that's gonna work out swell."

"No," Johnny snaps, scowling. "I'm over the acting thing. I want to do something that helps people. Like Peter does. Just...not teaching. I know you all think I can't do this, but I'm going to. You'll see."

"Little brother," Sue says, "if you pull this off, I will be so proud of you. We'll all be proud of you."

"But you don't really think I can," Johnny insists.

"I think you're smart enough to do anything, you're just not very disciplined," Sue says. "And you don't have a college degree. That's going to make things difficult."

"Which I am really regretting right now, I'll admit," Johnny replies ruefully. "But I'll figure it out. I swear. I'm not gonna mess this up. I'll do whatever it takes."

"Well," Reed tells him, "we wish you all the best of luck, and if there's anything we can do to help, Johnny, or if you ever need anything..."

"We'll be there, little bro," Sue finishes for him.

"In a heartbeat," Ben adds. "You're family, after all."

Johnny smiles at them. "Thanks, guys. That—that means a lot."

* * *

It's only later that afternoon, when Johnny's bringing pizza to feed the moving crew, that he finally figures out what he wants to do. 

He sees a flyer stapled to a lamppost. It's tattered and worn out, like it's been there for ages. He just stands there and stares at it, three pizzas wedged under his arm, until he hears his phone start to ring.

He picks it up, and it's his agent, Howard. The one who just a week ago told him that he was through in the acting profession. Now he's all compliments and flattery, because, it turns out, Fox wants to do a series called _Who Wants to Marry a Super Hero_ , and they want Johnny.

Johnny knows that he doesn't want to do that. It's not what he wants at all. He's staring right at what he wants to do. 

It's a flyer for the New York Fire Department, and it's exactly what Johnny's been looking for.

* * *

Once they've moved all of their things out, they all stand and stare up at the building that used to be their home. 

Johnny's feeling down, just thinking about never seeing the inside of the Baxter Building again, never being able to call it home. 

He's spent the last ten years living there. Val and Franklin have never really known any other home. And now it's gone. He knows they're all of them, every last one, thinking the same thing.

"What none of them could do," Sue says sadly. "Not the Puppet Master, not the Mole Man, not even Victor..."

"What, sis?" Johnny asks.

"Take our home from us," she replies. "I know it's just steel and concrete, I know we didn't have any choice, but still..."

They all stand there and think about all of the wonderful times they've had in there. Family dinners, movie marathons, birthdays, anniversaries, or just hanging out, all four of them and the kids.

So many memories, all of them gone now. 

It feels like something's ending. Like the end of an era. Maybe it is.

"C'mon, Matchstick," Ben says to Johnny, putting his huge hand on Johnny's shoulder and steering him away. "Let's wait in the truck."

Johnny takes Franklin's hand in his and leads him away too.

They sit in the truck and watch while Sue and Reed talk quietly in the distance. 

"I can't believe we let this happen," Johnny tells Ben. "I can't believe our home is gone."

"We'll get through this, kid," Ben says. 

"How?" Johnny says. "They've taken everything from us."

"Not everything," Ben says. "We've still got each other."

"Yeah," Johnny concedes. "I guess."

"See, kid?" Ben tells him. "You just gotta look on the bright side."

"Yeah," Johnny says. "Did I tell you? I figured out what I wanna do. I'm gonna be a fireman."

"A fireman?" Ben says. He snorts. "I give it two weeks. Mebbe one, dependin' on how soon you get a load of how much work it is."

"Not everything I do is a phase, Benjy," Johnny protests. "I'm serious about this. I want to help people, and this is how. I just know that this is what I'm supposed to do."

"Heard that one before," Ben says. "But if ya say so, kid."

Johnny just sighs and sinks down in his seat. He guesses he's kind of earned that—he's never stuck to any job he's ever had in his life. Race car driver, actor, mechanic, he's never done anything for long.

But this feels right in a way nothing else ever did. He just knows it. This is the path he's supposed to take.

* * *

When he gets home that night, he's got a small suitcase of stuff to tide him over till tomorrow, when Sue and Reed and Ben will show up tomorrow to help him move his stuff into Peter's.

Peter's sitting in the kitchen, four stacks of papers piled in front of him. 

"Grading?" Johnny says, peering at the test Peter's currently reading over.

"Yeah," Peter grunts, rubbing wearily at his eyes. "Gotta get these done by tomorrow."

"Have you eaten already?" Johnny checks.

Peter squints his eyes and thinks about that for awhile. "Erm," he says. "I ate at like one? I think. That may have been yesterday."

"It's seven, Pete," Johnny tells him. "You need to eat."

"Gotta get this done first," Peter says determinedly and bows his head to start grading again.

Johnny knows that tone of voice. It means Peter's going to be stubborn. He rolls his eyes and says, "I'm making you food anyways."

"You don't really have to cook for me all the time, Johnny," Peter replies. "I was mostly just giving you a hard time."

"I figured," Johnny says as he starts pulling food out of the fridge. Some chicken, couple of vegetables, maybe some rice. That'll be a good dinner for Pete. "I'm still making you food. Do you always take such terrible care of yourself, buddy?"

Peter shrugs. "I'm busy. It's not like I do it on purpose. I just...get caught up in stuff. You'll see what it's like when you get a job."

"Yeah," Johnny says, flicking the fire on, sticking a pan on it, and pouring some cooking oil into it. He starts combing through Peter's cupboards looking for...ah! there it is. A rice cooker. "About that. I think I know what I wanna do."

"Yeah?" Peter asks, putting his red pen down and giving Johnny his full attention. "What would that be?"

"Fireman," Johnny replies, tossing a grin at Peter over his shoulder as he starts measuring out the rice. "C'mon, it's perfect. I can do the dangerous stuff they can't have anyone else do, since fire doesn't affect me."

"And you're happy with this?" Peter says, squinting. 

"Yeah," Johnny says. "Totally. Feels right. Besides, I'd look great in the uniform. Talk about your sexy fireman."

"Well," Peter says. "There's a station a few blocks from here. You should go check it out in the morning."

"Can't tomorrow," Johnny says. He yanks a couple of chicken breasts out of their case and starts combing through Peter's spice rack. "Sue and Reed and Ben are coming over to bring some of my stuff."

"Where will this stuff be going, exactly?" Peter asks, frowning. "This apartment's not exactly huge, Johnny."

"It's not a lot," Johnny reassures him. "Just some clothes, and video game consoles, and, y'know, other personal stuff. Pictures."

"Okay," Peter says, appeased. "I'll leave you the extra key. Actually, you should probably just take that one for yourself, y'know."

"Yeah?" Johnny says, smiling. "Cool."

"And you should tidy up a little if Sue's coming over," Peter points out. "You don't want her thinking this is a total bachelor pad, or anything."

Johnny snorts. "You live here. She's not gonna think that, Pete."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Peter scowls. "I _am_ a bachelor."

"You're also not exactly the wild and crazy type," Johnny says. "She knows that."

"I can get crazy sometimes," Peter says, wounded.

"This I will have to see someday," Johnny says. "I sort of don't believe it."

* * *

The rest of the FF show up the next morning just after Peter leaves for work, so Johnny lets them all in.

Lilah and Mrs. Butler are on their way out the door. Lilah's got a little Monica Rambeau backpack, so clearly she likes superheroes. She takes one look at the four of them, standing on the sidewalk, and shouts, "Oh, my god!"

"Lilah!" Mrs. Butler chides, before looking up herself and saying, "Good lord!"

"Hi," Johnny waves. "Meet my family." 

"You're—" Mrs. Butler says, and then gulps. "That's why I thought I knew your face!"

"I have a very memorable face," Johnny shrugs.

Lilah lets go of her mother's hand, runs up to Ben, and stares up at him. Ben waves.

"Hey, kid," he says.

"You're taller than I thought," she says, peering up at him. "Can you beat the Hulk in a fight? Because Marjorie told me you couldn't and I said you could."

"Pshaw," Ben says dismissively. "Of course I can, kid." He snaps his fingers. "Just like that."

Johnny snorts derisively. 

Ben whirls around and glares at him, while Johnny does his best to look innocent. 

"Got somethin' ta say, squirt?" he demands.

"Me?" Johnny says innocently. "Not one word, Benjy."

"That's what I thought," Ben says, with a sharp nod.

"Do you know Monica Rambeau?" Lilah asks them eagerly. 

"Yeah," Johnny shrugs. "She's okay."

Lilah's eyes narrow. "She's my favorite. And she's cooler than you."

Johnny presses a hand to his chest and says, "Ouch. Words hurt, y'know, kid."

Lilah turns up her nose, walks back to her mom, and says, "I know."

"Whoops. I think I pissed her off," Johnny tells Ben.

"Little bit," Ben agrees.

* * *

"Nice digs, kid," Ben says as he looks around Peter's apartment, a pile of cardboard boxes in his arms. "The Webhead ain't done all that bad."

"It's a little messy, bro," Sue tells Johnny, wrinkling her nose disapprovingly.

Johnny rolls his eyes. He tidied up a bit last night, but clearly it's not up to Sue's standards. "If you think this's bad," he tells her, "you should've seen what it looked like before I got here."

"That bad, huh?" Ben asks.

"Pete's a slob," Johnny shrugs. "Big surprise."

"You'll get along just fine, then," Sue says dryly. "Just try to clean up every now and then, Johnny. That's part of being an adult too, you know."

"I know," Johnny says irritably. "I _know_."

* * *

There are piles of boxes in the living room and in Johnny's bedroom. His new closet is just not big enough for all of his clothes. His old one was about ten times bigger.

He's not sure what he's going to do with all of his clothes.

Sue offers to stay and help him unpack, but he tells her to go home and take care of her own stuff.

"I've got this," he says to her.

* * *

Johnny's in his bedroom trying to figure out where to put all of his stuff when Peter comes home. 

Johnny looks up, and sees Peter staring at him from the doorway. He's still got his overcoat on and his briefcase is dangling from his right hand.

Peter just sighs, sags against the doorframe, and says, "You're cleaning this up, right?"

"Workin' on it," Johnny says. "It'll be out of your hair in no time, Pete. Promise."

Peter sighs again and turns on his heel. Johnny watches him disappear into the kitchen.

* * *

Johnny spends some time that night researching the requirements he needs to fulfill before he can become a fireman. A couple of written tests Johnny'll probably have to study for, physical requirements—he'll probably have to work out a bit more just to make sure he's in peak condition—and he has to go to a training facility in Buffalo for six weeks. Well, that's gonna be a pain. Maybe not doable.

Johnny keeps looking, and he finds out that he intern at a specific station for six weeks instead. Yeah, that'll work better. It'll come with a small paycheck. Not a lot, but enough to keep him going.

He tells Peter about it, tells him it'll be a few weeks before he can take all of the exams—the next one's not offered for another three weeks—and Peter assures him that it's fine.

* * *

Johnny starts getting up at the crack of dawn every morning to go running.

When he comes back, he showers, changes, and then fixes breakfast for himself and for Peter. Most days, he even makes Peter lunch. 

A sandwich, just the way Peter likes it, chips, an apple, and a soda. That's a good lunch, he thinks. If Peter's been especially nice to him, he even adds in a pudding cup.

If Peter hasn't been, Johnny sticks a tiny bag full of baby carrots in the bag. Peter hates carrots, so Johnny buys them on purpose just to mess with him. He's pretty sure Peter knows that too.

* * *

"They're hot for me," Johnny brags to Peter while they're out grocery shopping at the store just down the block from their apartment.

"Who?" Peter asks, frowning, as he grabs a couple of boxes of cookies from the shelf.

"Those two ladies," Johnny says, pointing behind them. "They keep following me around and smiling at me."

Peter peers over at the pair of ladies. Johnny's sure he's going to be astonished at how dazzled they seem to be by Johnny. 

Peter tosses his head back and laughs. "Yeah, Johnny? That's Mrs. Ramirez and her _wife._ They're lesbians. Bet you five dollars they just like your haircut. Or, I don't know, your shoes."

"Aw, man!" Johnny says, crestfallen. "I haven't had any hot chicks following me around in ages, Pete. This is terrible. I think I'm losing my mojo. Can suddenly becoming poor make you lose your mojo?"

"You never had any to begin with, Torchy, except in your head," Peter tells him dryly. "Hey, I forgot to grab butter. Go grab some for me, would you? And make sure it's not the expensive organic kind. I know you like it, but we can't afford it."

"My life sucks," Johnny sighs. "Just like yours."

Peter rolls his eyes. "Butter," he orders. "Now."

* * *

It was the shoes.

* * *

Johnny begins to realize that Peter gets so caught up in all of the superheroing and teaching and helping out around the building that he doesn't take the best care of himself, so he makes sure to remind Peter to eat three times a day and sleep every now and then.

The nights Peter patrols, Johnny just sighs, pulls out the first aid kit from under the sink, and puts it on the coffee table the minute Peter swings out the window. 

Five times out of ten, Peter'll have some kind of cut that needs to be bandaged up when he comes back.

Sometimes the cuts are so deep, Peter in such obvious pain, that Johnny feels a little sick, but he tries never to let Peter see it. He does his best to keep his hands from shaking, and just remember all of the things Reed's taught him about basic first aid.

* * *

Johnny's studying from a textbook one afternoon. It's incredibly dull. He'd forgotten how damn boring studying can be. That was one nice thing about not having to be in school anymore. No more studying, no more tests.

And here he is willingly doing it again. Man, maybe he is a little crazy.

There's a knock at Johnny's door. Unsurprisingly, it's Peter. 

"Hey," he says, leaning against the doorframe, still in his Spidey suit, mask dangling from his right hand. "So Aunt May's coming by this weekend."

"Yeah?" Johnny says brightly. "Awesome. Ask her if she'll make us cookies."

"Yeah," Peter says. "Thing is, buddy, this place is a mess. We can't let her see it like this. She'll lecture and tut and it'll just not be fun."

Johnny makes a face. "You mean we have to clean?"

"I mean we have to clean," Peter confirms. "I'll do the kitchen. You can do the bathroom." He starts heading towards the kitchen.

"What?" Johnny asks indignantly, getting up to trail after him. "I don't want to clean the bathroom, Peter! It's gross in there!"

"Someone has to clean it," Peter sings. "And that someone is you."

"Well, I don't know how to clean a bathroom, so joke's on you," Johnny says triumphantly. "I can't do it anyways."

Peter whirls around and puts his hands on his hips. "You want to be grown-up? Well, this is what being grown-up is. It means you sometimes have to clean gross bathrooms." He waves a hand at Johnny. "The cleaning stuff is under the sink. I'm sure you can figure it out. Make sure you sweep, and mop, and clean the toilet and the shower."

"Toilet?" Johnny whines. "C'mon, Pete, no. Please?"

"You're not rich anymore, and you don't live with your sister," Peter points out. "You were always going to have to clean a bathroom eventually. Why not start now?"

* * *

Johnny cleans the bathroom, but he's not happy about it.

He's not happy about it at all.

He hates being poor, he decides, right around the time he's cleaning the toilet and trying to keep from retching. It's just the worst, and how do so many people handle it?

He had to buy a couple of new outfits with what little money he had left in order to fit in a little better around here.

He's pretty convinced they're giving him a rash. His skin is too delicate for cheap clothing. That's what the problem is. His skin demands quality and he can't blame it, because so does he.

He thinks the subway is probably the worst. The bane of his existence. 

It took Peter a week to convince him to use it the first time, and Johnny still spent the entire ride complaining endlessly about it. 

It's horrible and smelly and crowded and he's pretty sure he's been fondled more while he's been on the subway—by gross, stinky dudes—than he ever has been in his life. He knows he's hot, but seriously?

He's starting to realize just how shielded from the ugly side of life he really was when he was rich.

Johnny also hates just the sheer amount of busy work that goes into being poor—doing his own laundry, it turns out, is pretty damn time-consuming. And having to do dishes every night? Cook all of his own meals? Clean up after himself? Buy his own food? It's no fun. 

Johnny misses being rich. He misses it so much.

* * *

After he watches Peter a few more days, he realizes that he doesn't know how Peter has been doing this for so many years, day in and day out.

He should be exhausted. Johnny's timed him. Most nights he sleeps three hours, maybe four. Some nights he doesn't sleep at all.

But he never stops. He has responsibilities—to the city, to the Avengers, to his students, to his family, to his friends, to the other residents of the building—so he never stops.

Johnny finds it all very admirable, and starts feeling bad about all of the time he sucks up.

Eventually he starts figuring out the little gap he fills in Peter's life. He's the one Peter can relax around and just be himself with, the one he can talk to, have fun with, the one he doesn't have to worry about protecting or lying to.

He wishes he was like Peter. That driven, that focused, that generous, that giving. He knows he isn't, most of the time. 

He's going to be now, he decides. He's going to be like Pete. Sue and Ben and Reed would be proud of him, if he could just be like Peter.

It's baffling how naturally it all comes to him. Peter doesn't even have to _try_ to be selfless. He just _is_ that way, and it's just...

Johnny doesn't know how to be like that.

* * *

Johnny comes home one day after having dinner with his family to find Peter sitting on his couch, clacking away at his laptop.

He looks exhausted. Beyond exhausted, really. Circles under his eyes, face a bit ashen, and the bandaged cuts on his forehead from last night's Spideying aren't helping either. 

Johnny sighs, shakes his head, and walks over. Something needs to be done about this.

"Pete," Johnny says, "what are you doing?"

"Writing a test," Peter grunts, without even stopping his typing long enough to glance at Johnny. "I was busy hunting down Hammy all week, and I didn't have time to get to it sooner."

"Yeah," Johnny says. "Did you eat dinner?"

Peter looks up, blinks, and seems to realize that it's somehow gotten late while he's been working. "Oh," he says. "What time is it? Six?"

"Nine, actually."

"Oh," Peter says, shutting his laptop. "Right. I should go suit up. I was gonna patrol for awhile."

"No, you're not," Johnny says, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder and shoving him back down. "You're gonna eat dinner, and then you're gonna sleep. You look tired, Pete."

"Dude," he says. "It's fine. I'm used to it, believe me."

"At least eat?" Johnny pleads.

"Why do you care?" Peter asks. He leans back, crosses his arms, and raises his eyebrows. He looks mildly amused. "Johnny Storm, are you worried about me?"

"Yeah," Johnny tosses back, putting his hands on his hips. "You're being your usual self, by which I mean an idiot, so yeah, I _am_ worried, you idiot."

Peter rolls his eyes. "You're not my mom."

"No, but I am your friend, and if you don't promise to eat something, I'll—"

"You'll what?" Peter says coolly. "There's not really anything you can threaten me with, y'know."

Johnny's eyes light up as it hits him. "Call your Aunt May," he says smugly, already knowing he's won. "And tell her you're not eating enough."

Peter freezes, eyes wide, and then he scowls up at Johnny. "That's low. That's really, really low."

"Hey, I do what I need to get the job done," Johnny shrugs. 

Peter sighs, leans forward, and drags his hands over his face wearily. "Fine," he says begrudgingly. "Fine. If you make something, I promise I will eat it."

"Cool," Johnny says. "First smart thing you've said all night." He walks into the kitchen. "Maybe ever."

* * *

Peter eats the dinner Johnny makes him on the couch while he and Johnny watch the latest episode of  _Criminal Minds._  

Johnny looks over about halfway through the episode to laugh about the kind of unbelievable fight scene and finds that Peter's fast asleep.

He sighs, rolls his eyes, and gets up to pull a blanket off of Peter's bed. He drapes it over Peter, and stands there for a second, looking down at Peter's unconscious face and shaking his head.

Okay, so maybe he doesn't want to be 100% like Peter.

Working all the time just isn't healthy. Gotta balance the two, y'know? Johnny's gonna make sure he doesn't forget to have fun every now and then.

Maybe one of these nights he'll even talk Peter into having some fun too.

* * *

Johnny works hard, reads everything related to firefighting he can find, every manual, every guide. 

He keeps up his grueling exercise schedule, even though it's exhausting.

He studies night and day, and takes the tests, and passes with a pretty good score. Ninetieth percentile, which is pretty decent, he thinks.

He and Peter go out for drinks the night after he gets his test results back. 

Johnny spends most of the night smiling at Peter. He just can't help it. Peter's a very sweet, affectionate drunk, who just loves everybody and everything. Johnny never fails to find that hilarious. It's so unlike normal, kinda judgy Peter.

At the end of the night, Peter winds up falling asleep on Johnny's shoulder, and Johnny can't bear to wake him up, so he just settles down against him and goes to sleep too.

* * *

When he at last feels like he's ready, he calls the fire station Peter told him about and sets up an appointment with the Station Chief.

He looks her up online the night before. Marisol Luna. Graduated top of her class at ESU. Impressive list of commendations and awards. She's by far one of the most decorated firefighters in the city. 

He finds a video of her online from years ago, where she's giving a speech for an award she got for pulling three kids out of a burning building. No one else dared to go in because it was too dangerous, but the minute she heard about the kids, she ran in without a backwards glance, and she pulled them all out. The kids all lived thanks to her, but her right arm was badly burned.

She's still scarred from it. Probably why she's wearing long sleeves in all of the pictures Johnny can find of her after that fire.

Johnny feels nervous about talking to her. She's a bona fide hero. No powers, no healing factor, but she's saved so many lives, and risked her own so very often.

"Just try to be professional," Peter counsels. "Be honest, don't show off. Don't mention that time you burned down ESU."

"Oh, god," Johnny says, burying his head in his hands. "This is going to be a _disaster_."

"No, it won't," Peter says. "Wanna practice typical job interview stuff? Rehearsing helps sometimes."

"Yes, please," Johnny says. "That would help."

"Okay," Peter says. "Do you want to be you, or should I be you?"

Johnny squints at him. "Uh, I think I'll be me, just for the sake of my sanity," he says. "Less confusing."

"Right. Okay, fine then. Take the boring approach." He clears his throat. "So why do you want to be a fireman, Mr. Storm?" 

"Because I think I'd be good at it?" Johnny tries.

"Don't say it like a question, Johnny, say it like you mean it. And also, that answer's just kinda so-so. Talk about wanting to do something to help people. That'll go over well."

"Right," Johnny says. "Right. Okay. Let's do that again."

"So why do you want to be a fireman?"

"I've been trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life for a couple of years now. I tried a lot of things, but they never felt right. Until I got the idea to do this. It lets me help people. That's all I've ever really wanted to do, ever since I was a kid who got superpowers. And I'll do anything I have to in order to make it happen, Chief."

"Better," Peter says. "Next question..."

* * *

They rehearse for three hours. Johnny feels much more confident by the time it's done.

* * *

That confidence vanishes fairly quickly when he's actually looking into Chief Luna's cool brown eyes.

She arches an eyebrow at him as he sits down in the chair in front of her desk. "So you _are_ the Human Torch," she says. "We thought it might be a prank when you called." 

"No," Johnny says. "It's, um, it's me. Ma'am."

"So what brings the Human Torch to my little fire station?" she asks.

"Well," Johnny says, swallowing, "I'd like—I've decided that I want to be a fireman."

She doesn't say anything for a beat. "Son," she tells him, leaning forwards over her desk. "We put out fires, we don't start them."

"I realize that, Chief, but I..." Johnny starts, and then mutters, "Oh, man, this is hard," to himself under his breath. "I've just—I've thought about it, and...that is...I mean..."

"Want to be a fireman when you grow up, is that it?" she asks.

"Yes," Johnny says, and then the words just start to tumble out of his mouth. "I've taken the written tests, I meet all the physical requirements, I'm mentally stable, I'm the right age, I'm healthy, I can fly...I know that's not a requirement, I just thought I'd mention it. I can—"

"This isn't like getting a job flipping burgers, kid," she tells him, cutting him off. "People train for years for this. Volunteer, take classes in college—that reminds me. Do you even have a high school diploma?"

"Yes, ma'am," Johnny says. "Even a few semesters at college."

"But you didn't finish," she says.

"No, ma'am."

"Why not?" 

"I thought being a superhero full time was more important. I realize now it was probably a mistake, but I...thought I was doing the right thing at the time. All I've ever wanted to do was help people, ma'am, ever since I was a kid."

"Is it that you want to help people, or that you want to be a hero? This work's not glamorous, son, and you won't get rich doing it. It's 24-hours on, 48 off. And when you're on, you're on. You eat, sleep, and everything else in the station. A lot of the time, it'll be grunt work. Cleaning equipment, going out on inspections, educating the public in fire-prevention—boring stuff, in other words. And when it's not boring, you're—"

"Risking your lives," Johnny finishes for her. "I know, Chief, and I'm sure you're aware...I've had some experience in that department. And I'm fine doing the grunt work. Believe it or not, a lot of my time on the FF is grunt work just like that. Cleaning out the hangar, fixing up engines, giving speeches at high schools—I do a lot of that."

"To be a fireman in the City of New York, you've got to spend six weeks at our training facility in Buffalo—"

"Or you have to pick a specific fire station and talk to the chief there and ask if you can become an apprentice firefighter and start working and learning on-the-job right away."

"Son..." she says, but Johnny can tell he's got her almost convinced.

He decides to show off some of the knowledge he's gained from all of the research he's done. "It takes seventeen turns to open a fully-functional hydrant using a standard issue wrench, did you know that, Chief Luna?"

That clinched it. He can see it in her eyes. She's impressed that he took the time to learn that.

"Alright," she sighs. "Alright. You're in. Don't let me down, kid."

She clicks a button on her intercom and says, "Mextli, please come to my office."

"Mextli?" Johnny asks, once she clicks it off.

"Mextli Cuautlaxahue. Best firefighter we got," she says. "I'm putting her in charge of you."

"Thank you, ma'am," Johnny says.

"Listen to her. She knows her stuff backwards and forwards," the Chief tells him.

There's a knock at the door, and a short Mexican woman pokes her head in. If Johnny was standing, she probably wouldn't come up past his shoulder. But she looks tough, despite her diminutive size. "You wanted to see me, _jefe_?" she says.

"Meet Johnny Storm," Chief Luna says, gesturing at Johnny. "He's gonna be our new apprentice firefighter."

Mextli takes one look at Johnny and says, "We couldn't find anyone better? Who's not named after the Human Torch?"

"Uh," Johnny says, raising a finger. "I _am_ the Human Torch?"

Her eyebrows knit together. "You told him that we don't start fires, right? That 'fireman' doesn't mean man made of fire?"

"I get that, okay?" Johnny snaps. "I'm not stupid. My powers can do a lot of things, you know, including putting out fires. I control heat, really. Fire's just a part of that."

" _Jefe_ ," Mextli pleads, still not deigning to look at Johnny. "C'mon. Don't saddle me with a rookie."

"You need a new partner, Mextli," the Chief shrugs. "You drove your old one away. Let's if Mr. Storm can't do something with you."

"I'm the best firefighter you got," Mextli says. "C'mon, _jefe_. Don't do this. It'll ruin my numbers!"

"Train him well, and it won't ruin anything," the Chief says firmly. "You're dismissed, Mextli. Take Mr. Storm to HR to fill out his paperwork."

"Fine," Mextli snaps. She points at Johnny. "You. Follow me."

Johnny gets up to follow after her. "Thanks, Chief," he says. "I won't let you down. I've got a lot riding on this too."

"Good," the Chief says. "Glad to hear that."

Mextli hooks a hand around Johnny's elbow and drags him towards the door. "We need to talk," she says. "Now."

"Mextli," the Chief calls. "Be nice."

"Oh," Mextli smiles pleasantly. "Of course." The door clicks shut. She turns to Johnny. "Listen up, rookie. These are the rules. You do what I say, when I say it, no questions asked. I've got the best numbers in this place. I'm not letting a good-for-nothing playboy superhero drag me down with him. You are going to be the best damn firefighter this station's ever seen by the time I'm through with you."

Johnny raises his hands in surrender. "Hey, that's all I want too," he tells her. "You work me as hard as you want. I'll do it."

She raises an eyebrow at him. She might even be smiling a little. "Good," she says, pleased. Or Johnny thinks she is. At least she doesn't look like she's fantasizing about ripping his head off anymore. "There might be hope for you yet."

* * *

Mextli's not lying. Her training is intense. She throws so much information at him, Johnny struggles to remember it all. 

She's a tough teacher, but she's fair. She explains everything, over and over, with great patience, until Johnny gets it.

Johnny's impressed when she starts running him through drills. He watches her do the most complex maneuvers without even breaking a sweat. It all comes as easy to her as breathing. She's a born firefighter. He can tell.

Johnny tries to do even the simplest things, and he falls flat on his ass. Sometimes literally.

This really isn't going to be easy. It might just be the hardest thing he's ever done.

* * *

The other firefighters at the station aren't as kind as Mextli. They call him 'pretty boy,' 'has-been,' and 'fire hazard' and haze and tease him endlessly.

Some of them even call him 'criminal,' because of the ESU fire he'd started years ago. It's a painful memory for Johnny. He flinches every time they mention it, but he tries not to let it show.

They set him to work sweeping, cleaning out bathrooms, mopping, cleaning fire trucks, and every other servile task they can think of. 

Johnny's discouraged, but Mextli tells him to tune them out, and just focus on being the best. She says it's what she does, and they call her far worse.

* * *

"Do it again," Mextli tells him on Tuesday. He's gone through the drill for an emergency call about thirteen times so far, but Mextli's still not satisfied. Too slow, she says.

He sighs, gets to his feet, and does it again.

* * *

"I can't do this," he groans on Thursday. "Mextli, this is...how do you all _do_ this?"

"You're not giving up on me now, _pendejo_ ," Mextli says, crossing her arms and scowling at him.

Johnny sags, and looks wiped out.

She relents, and then sighs and rolls her eyes. "C'mon, crybaby. Let's go out for lunch."

* * *

Mextli doesn't say anything at first. Doesn't eat either. Her sandwich just sits in front of her, untouched. All she does is stare at Johnny searchingly.

"Are you just going to watch me eat all through lunch?" Johnny prods. "Cause I gotta say, it's a little creepy."

"Tell me why you're doing this," she demands. "You said on Monday that you had a lot riding on this. Tell me what."

"Why?" Johnny asks.

"I want you to remember why you're doing this," she says. "Maybe it'll help."

"I...guess I'm doing this to prove to my sister and her husband and Ben that, well, I'm not a kid anymore. That I'm not just...a useless, spoiled playboy. I don't...want them to think I'm a failure."

"And you think you quitting your apprenticeship's gonna prove that you aren't a failure?"

"No," Johnny admits. "No. You're right."

"Stick with this," Mextli pleads. "I'll get you through it, I promise." 

"Why do you care?" Johnny asks. "I thought I was just a rookie."

"So maybe I got attached," she says. She smirks. "Or maybe I just feel sorry for you."

Johnny narrows his eyes at her. "Are you messing with me?" he asks uncertainly.

She shrugs and picks up her sandwich. "Maybe."

Johnny's pretty sure she's smiling a little.

* * *

Johnny sticks with it. Any time his enthusiasm starts to lag, Mextli asks him if he wants to be a failure. Johnny doesn't, so he manages to somehow drudge up the will to do what she's asking.

By the end of his first week, he's so exhausted he can hardly stand. He barely makes it back to his apartment, and when he does, he just collapses onto the sofa. 

He's asleep before his head hits the pillow.

Mextli's really been working him hard. He thinks there's not a muscle in his body that's not sore. Muscles he didn't even know he had are sore. 

All of the training he'd been doing is nothing compared to the shape he needs to be in to do this.

He's startled awake by the sound of the front door closing and Peter snorting.

"Rough week?" Peter asks, sounding a tad amused.

"I think I'm dead," Johnny moans. "Just leave me here to die."

"Can't," Peter says. "We have to go to that dinner at Sue's tonight, remember? You promised."

"No," Johnny groans. "I can't. Just text her for me, will you? Tell her I died, and I can't make it this week. Maybe next week."

"Nope," Peter says. "We are going to this dinner. You're grown-up Johnny now, remember? Be responsible. Go see your sister."

"Don't wanna," Johnny says childishly, pulling a pillow over his head. "I'm sore _everywhere_ , Pete. I don't think I can even work up enough energy to change my clothes."

"Tough luck, buddy," Peter says blithely. "We're not missing dinner. That would just prove them right, and you don't want that, now do you?"

"But I'm dead," Johnny protests. "Dead people can't go to dinner. It's just not fair to expect that, and probably not very sanitary anyways, what with the rotting flesh."

Peter sounds exasperated now. "Johnny," he says. "Am I going to have to toss you over my shoulder and carry you there?"

"Could you, old buddy, old pal?" Johnny asks hopefully. "Cause that would help."

Peter lets out a long exhale. "Johnny, just go get changed."

"Bye, couch," Johnny says gloomily. "You and I have a date after dinner. I'm sleeping on you for a week."

"Weekend only," Peter corrects. "You have to do this all over again next week. And the week after that. And the week after that."

"That's just depressing," Johnny groans. "So depressing. How do you even do this, Pete?"

Peter shrugs. "You learn to just block the monotony out of your mind. Otherwise it'll drive you crazy. And Spideying helps. Gives me something to punch when I'm frustrated."

"Hmm," Johnny says. "Duly noted."

Peter stares at him expectantly, and when he doesn't move, Peter sighs and says, "Okay, come on. Just this once, I will help you drag yourself to your room." He grabs Johnny's arm and puts it around his shoulders, and starts lifting Johnny off the couch. Johnny makes upset noises at him, but he doesn't stop.

"Try taking a shower. Might help the sore muscles," Peter suggests as they stagger towards Johnny's bedroom.

* * *

Johnny grumbles about having to take the subway to Sue's. He hates the subway, always has. He hates even more that he's gonna have to stand the whole way. He sags against Peter and maybe falls asleep once or twice.

Oh, god. He just desperately wants to sleep.

* * *

By the time they make it to Sue's, Johnny feels dead on his feet. He makes it through dinner, but falls asleep on Peter's shoulder when they start watching an after-dinner movie.

* * *

He wakes up there, on Sue's couch, the next morning. He gets a nice breakfast out of it, anyways.

"So how are things with you two lovebirds?" Ben asks him over breakfast.

"We're not lovebirds," Johnny says, annoyed. "Stop calling us that. Why do you always call us that?"

Ben looks amused. "You'll figure it out someday, Torch."

Johnny narrows his eyes. "I have no idea what that means, but I resent it."

"But how _are_ things going with you and Peter?" Sue prods.

"Does he sleep onna wall?" Ben asks.

"Why would he sleep on a wall?" Franklin asks, scrunching up his nose.

"He does not sleep on a wall," Johnny says. "I think. And things are going fine. Pete's been great. I mean, he gets on my nerves sometimes."

"You don't say," Ben says dryly.

"No, I don't mean like that, Benjy," Johnny says. "I mean the guy takes terrible care of himself. Seriously."

"This from the guy who went around ruining his liver practically every night for the past five years," Sue says flatly.

"Hey," Johnny says with a charming grin. "I'm a changed man now, sis. Respectable. I have a job, y'know."

Sue looks skeptical. "Uh-huh," she says. "Sure you are, Johnny, sure you are."

Johnny doesn't really now what he's gonna have to do to prove to them he's serious about all of this now.

He sighs. He supposes it won't happen overnight.

* * *

Johnny goes back to work on Monday, of course, and he keeps struggling to keep up with Mextli. 

She rolls her eyes at him when he complains about how good at it she is. 

"My dad was a fireman too." She flicks her fingers against his forehead. " _Tonto_. You can't expect to be as good as me after a week. I've been around this station my whole life. Practically grew up here."

"Oh," Johnny says. "So you're kind of a legacy."

"I guess," she says. "His picture's downstairs. You've probably seen it."

Johnny frowns. "Don't they only put up pictures of firemen who...died on the job?" His eyes widen as he realizes the implications.

"He died doing what he loves, okay?" Mextli says. "Best any of us can hope for."

"I want a lot more than that, personally," Johnny says.

"Let me guess. A supermodel for a wife, and beautiful, boring kids."

"Not necessarily a supermodel. But I wouldn't complain. And I'd be okay with, like, a linebacker or something. Have you seen the muscles on those guys?"

She shrugs. "I'm gay, so not really?"

"You are?" Johnny asks. "That girl you meet when your shift ends, is she...?" 

"My girlfriend? Yup."

Johnny's seen her. Tall, thin, beautiful. He's often wondered who the hell she is and how Mextli knows her.

"Oh," he says. "She's pretty. Nice catch."

"Excuse you, I'm dating her for her mind, thanks," Mextli sniffs.

Johnny raises an eyebrow. "I'm sure the fact that she's pretty doesn't exactly hurt."

"Well," Mextli concedes. "No. I guess not. What about you and that guy I see you with all the time at lunch? Are you two...?"

"No," Johnny says. "God, that's the second time this week someone's thought that."

"You two do seem a little..." She scrunches up her nose, searching for the right words. 

"Close?" Johnny supplies.

"Yeah, I guess," Mextli says. 

Johnny shrugs. "We've been BFFs for years, and now we're living together. I mean, yeah, we kind of are."

"But you've never dated?"

Johnny makes a face. "No, I have not ever dated Peter. We're just friends."

"Well, but why not?"

Johnny frowns and tries to think of a reason. None springs to mind. "You know what?" he asks. "Do you mind if we just get back to work now?"

Mextli shrugs and starts explaining the drill to him again. 

Johnny only half listens. Why hasn't he ever dated Peter? Peter's good-looking enough, and they really get along, and Johnny cares about him more than practically anyone. But somehow, the thought of them together has just...never occurred to him. He doesn't know why.

* * *

Johnny doesn't don't have much to do that Friday night, so he tries to convince Peter to stick around and go up to the roof with him and hang out.

Peter agrees, so Johnny grabs a pack of beers, and they head up. They sit with their feet dangling over the edge, and just talk.

Peter is such great company. Johnny always forgets that.

Johnny's decided that Peter should have more fun, and given that he's his roommate, it's kind of his responsibility to make sure it happens.

They laugh a lot at first, but eventually they quiet down and just stare out at the city. 

There's something that's been eating away at him for awhile now, and he doesn't really know anyone else who might get how he feels, other than Peter.

"Hey, Pete," Johnny asks quietly, running his thumb slowly along the mouth of his bottle of beer. "Do you ever think about having a family? I mean, do you want one?"

"Yeah," Peter shrugs. "Course I do."

"Don't you think that the whole superhero thing makes that kinda hard? Maybe impossible?"

Peter looks down at his dangling feet, and frowns pensively. "I think," he says hesitantly. "I don't know. Sometimes I feel like...doing what we do—it makes it hard, yeah. Not everyone's as lucky as your sister, y'know, finding another superhero to marry."

"Yeah," Johnny agrees. "Yeah."

"I dunno. Sometimes I think that I do what I do so that other people can be happy. But...I dunno. I've started thinking lately that maybe it's just not in the cards for me."

"That's it," Johnny says, nodding in agreement. "That's exactly how I feel."

Peter gives him a half smile. "I didn't know you thought about stuff like that," he tells him.

"All the time," Johnny says. "Man, I think about that all the time." He takes a swig of beer. "Hey, have you ever, y'know, been in love with another superhero? I mean, I don't wanna brag, but I've dated a couple. That still didn't seem to work out, somehow."

Peter doesn't say anything for a long while. Johnny starts thinking he's not going to answer. Eventually, he says, very hesitantly, "There was...someone. _Is_ someone. I was—er, have been—in love with him for a really long time. He...doesn't feel the same way. It's why I haven't really dated in a while...he's all I can think about, and it's. It's sort of eating me up inside."

Johnny puts a hand on his shoulder and says, with a friendly smile, "His loss, buddy. Any guy'd be lucky to have you."

"Yeah," Peter mutters, not quite meeting Johnny's eyes. 

"Anyone I know?" Johnny prods. That's probably why he's so embarrassed. Johnny probably knows the guy. "It's Matt, isn't it?"

"What?" Peter says, frowning. "No, it's not Matt, and no, I'm not telling you."

"Luke?"

"No!"

"Danny?"

"No!"

"Tony?"

"Ew, no! God, Johnny, he's like forty!"

"Old dudes can be hot. Logan?"

"I say Tony's too old, and you go for someone who's more than twice as old as him?"

"He doesn't _look_ older?"

"Johnny, please stop. I regret telling you now."

* * *

Johnny invites Ben over for poker night with him and Peter and a couple of people from their building. 

The stakes are pretty embarrassingly low, given that everyone's dead broke, but they manage to have fun anyhow.

Johnny notices Ben watching him and Peter talking the whole night with a look of barely-contained amusement. He wonders what the hell that's about.

* * *

Peter forgets his lunch a few mornings later. He does that a lot, really, but this morning Johnny's not due at the station for awhile, so he decides to go down to Midtown High and drop it off. It's not like it's that far. A fifteen-minute walk.

When he gets there, Peter's in the middle of spiel about genes and genetic codes. The kids mostly look half asleep, really, except for one or two who are listening with rapt attention. 

Johnny waits until Peter pauses to take a drink of his coffee and catch his breath, and then strolls in. He'd wait until Peter's on a break, but he has to be at the station in twenty minutes, and he still has to get over there.

"Hey, Johnny," Peter says, frowning. "What's up? No trouble, I hope?"

"Nope," Johnny says. He holds out Peter's lunch. "You just forgot this. I went through a lot of trouble to make that for you, you know." 

Peter takes his lunch and looks down at it like he's not sure what to do with it. 

"Oh," Peter says awkwardly. "Erm, thanks. You really didn't have to."

"No problem," Johnny says, and gives Peter his most charming smile. "Anyhow, I've gotta go. Due at the station in twenty." He holds up a hand. "Bye, Pete."

As he's walking out, just for fun, he sends up a little column of flames from his right hand. The kids' eyes widen. Oh, yeah, they're awake now.

When he's in the hallway, he hears a girl's voice shouting out excitedly, "Mr. Parker?! You bagged the Human Torch?! Nice job, teach."

The classroom erupts in laughter and then the kids are asking Peter a dozen questions about Johnny and what it's like dating a celebrity superhero.

Johnny claps a hand to his mouth to smother his own startled laughter. He almost doubles over, he's laughing so hard. He has to put a hand on the wall to steady himself.

"Whoops," he says aloud to the empty corridor once he regains his composure. "Sorry, Pete."

* * *

When Peter gets home, he forbids Johnny from ever bringing him his lunch again. Apparently now the whole school is convinced Johnny and Peter are dating, even the teachers. No one believes they aren't, especially after Peter let slip that he and Johnny are living together. Now _that's_ all over the school too.

"Did it never even _occur_ to you that people would assume we were together if you dropped my lunch off at school?" he hollers at Johnny.

Johnny tries hard not to laugh, but Peter just looks so done with everything, he can't help it. 

* * *

Peter comes home a week later with a sour expression on his face. He reaches into his coat pocket and hands a folded up paper to Johnny without a word.

Johnny takes it and opens it. It's a flyer with a picture of him and Peter—the picture he took at Midtown a few weeks ago, actually, right after Peter agreed to let him move in—with a heart around it. There's writing too, which says, "The Parker and Storm Fan Club."

Johnny covers his mouth and tries not to snicker. He's not too successful.

Peter looks up at the ceiling like he's praying for patience. "Johnny," he asks levelly, "how did these kids get ahold of that picture?"

"Um," Johnny says. "I put it on my Instagram. I have a lot of followers, okay? I didn't think about your students finding it."

Peter lets out a deep exhale of breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Johnny," he says through gritted teeth. "Are there any _other_ pictures of me on your Instagram I should know about?"

"Um," Johnny says. "Maybe a few?"

Peter yanks out his laptop and makes Johnny go through all of them with him. Johnny posts a lot of pictures, and a lot of them, yeah, are of Peter. They're living together, after all.

Peter makes him delete all of the embarrassing ones. 

* * *

It's weird. Once it's happened one time, it starts happening all of the time.

People everywhere just seem to assume that Johnny and Peter are dating, it seems like. Or maybe the kids from Peter's school have just been spreading the word to their parents, and, well, people gossip. Johnny's not sure.

He just knows that it keeps happening. Everywhere. Their whole building thinks they're dating, Johnny realizes after awhile. Maybe even the whole neighborhood. Johnny never realized so many people were paying attention to him and Peter, but it seems like they were.

He's not sure if it's because he's famous or if it's because Peter's so universally beloved around here.

He hopes it's the former, but thinks it's the latter.

Mrs. Lemkin starts giving Johnny cookies every time she sees him and tells him she put in extras for his boyfriend. 

Lilah's nice to him again—she'd given him a bit of a cold shoulder after his Monica Rambeau faux pas—and he's not sure why, until Mrs. Butler tells him that she's glad Peter's dating somebody.

The FedEx guy, for god's sake, who doesn't even live in their building, much less their neighborhood? When he brings packages for Peter when he's not there, just hands his DIAD straight to Johnny, and asks if he wants to sign for his boyfriend. 

When they go out for breakfast on Saturday at the little diner just round the corner from their apartment building, the waitress—a tall, middle-aged Puerto Rican woman—tells them that she thinks they're just the cutest couple she's ever seen. Peter almost chokes on the bacon he's munching on. Johnny thanks the waitress politely and tries not to laugh too hard. No point in being rude, after all. Let her think there's a hella hot guy couple out there. Who does it hurt?

At their favorite coffeeshop that's about two blocks from their apartment building, the barista—a small Asian guy with tattoos all up and down his arms—tells Johnny that he's so glad Johnny seems to be doing well with the whole bankruptcy thing, what with having managed to snag a really cute boyfriend and all. Peter splutters into his coffee.

After a while, they stop being surprised when people say it.

Johnny can tell that Peter hates it more than anything. He always gets this quiet, distant look on his face afterwards, one that's tinged with more than a small amount of hurt.

Johnny can't figure out why. Is it because...it just reminds Peter that he doesn't actually have anybody? Does it maybe have to do with that mysterious superhero he's in love with?

Personally, Johnny doesn't mind that everyone thinks they're dating. People have said worse things about him than that he's dating Peter Parker.

Besides, it's kinda fair. They're together a lot, which people notice, and they live together, and they're pretty close, and sometimes it's just hard to tell who's dating and who's really close friends. There's a pretty fine line between the two, y'know?

* * *

"We're avoiding each other for the next week," Peter tells him crossly. "Maybe if they don't see us together, they'll realize we aren't dating."

Johnny snorts. "That sounds like a very cunning plan, Pete," he tells Peter patronizingly.

Peter glowers at him and snaps, "It'll work, Flamebrain. You'll see."

Johnny doesn't buy it.

* * *

It really, _really_ doesn't work. Everyone asks where Peter is, everywhere Johnny goes. The grocery store, the coffeeshop, everyone asks him where his boyfriend is, somewhat disappointedly.

Everyone just assumes they're arguing. They all start giving Johnny advice on how to deal with spats with your significant other. Sometimes they'll just tell him encouraging stories about fights they've had with their husbands or wives, sometimes they'll give him free pastries or slices of pizza to cheer him up—it's weird living in a place where everyone knows you and your business.

Johnny's not used to it, but he kind of likes it.

Peter's deeply annoyed at the failure of his not-very-cunning plan. Johnny tries not to gloat, but he doesn't really succeed.

* * *

Peter starts flirting with a pretty cashier at the grocery store they go to, and Johnny doesn't know why, but he's suddenly in a terrible mood.

He snaps at Peter a few times on their way back home, until Peter decides he's finally had enough. 

"Okay," he says on the steps to their apartment building. "What's eating you, Storm?"

"Eating me?" Johnny replies coolly, shuffling his grip on the bag he's carrying in his arms. "Why, not a thing, Web-Head."

"That's not true. You've been in a bad mood since we left the store. Are you really that upset that we couldn't afford those chips you wanted?"

"No," Johnny snaps, scowling up at Peter. "I don't care about the stupid chips, Peter, and I'm in a perfectly fine mood."

Peter snorts. "Oh, yeah," he says, pulling out his keys to open the front door to their building. "I can tell. Cool as a cucumber, that's you."

* * *

When they get inside, Johnny starts helping to put the groceries away, but Peter makes him stop after he throws a jar of jam into a cupboard and nearly breaks it.

Johnny storms off to his bedroom and slams the door shut so hard he's surprised it didn't fall off of its hinges. 

He collapses onto on his bed, flat on his back, and scowls up at the ceiling. 

Why the hell is he in a bad mood, anyways? He thinks about it for a few minutes, but he can't seem to figure it out. 

He was in a great mood all day, and then he wasn't. 

It occurs to him that he'd seen Peter flirting in between. Hmph, he thinks. He's probably in a rotten mood because it's embarrassing to be seen with someone who's so bad at flirting.

Yeah, that's gotta be it.

He rolls over and picks up his Nintendo DS to take his mind off of it.

* * *

He goes for a walk with Sue and the kids in the park by their apartment one afternoon, and tells Sue about the weirdness that's been going on with him and Peter.

"Everyone in our neighborhood thinks we're dating," he tells her as they sit on a bench, sip their coffees, and watch the kids play in the sandbox.

Sue's coffee cup halts in its path to her mouth. She arches an eyebrow. "Are you?" she inquires.

"God, no, Sue!" Johnny says. "We're just friends, and that's all. Although...it bothers Peter. I can tell. I think it's because of that mysterious superhero he's in love with."

Sue gets a weird look on her face and says, "He's...in love with another superhero?"

"Yes!" Johnny hisses. "And he won't tell me _who_. You don't know, do you?"

"Erm," Sue says. "I might have something of an inkling."

Johnny waits, but she doesn't say anything else. "Well, who?" he prods.

"I don't want to spread gossip, Johnny," Sue says, neatly side-stepping the question. "Can I ask, bro, does it bother _you_ when people assume you're dating him?"

"I didn't used to mind, but the last few days...I dunno, it's started to."

"Mm-hm, mm-hmm," she says. "Now, why do you think that is?"

Johnny throws up his hands. "I don't know! How the hell am I supposed to know?"

Sue snorts and takes a sip of her coffee. "You could, I dunno, try thinking about it for two seconds."

Johnny narrows his eyes at her. "Are you saying _you_ know why it's bothering me?"

"I have my theories," Sue says mysteriously. 

"Which are?"

"I can't tell you. You need to figure this out on your own."

And she won't tell him, no matter how much he complains and insists it's not fair.

* * *

When he finally does figure it out, it's nothing big. It's a few days later, and Peter's biting into a piece of toast that has far too much jam on it—Johnny always tells him to put less, but Peter never listens, and he always winds up with smudges of jam around his mouth.

Johnny catches himself smiling at Peter and realizes what it was he'd been thinking. Beautiful. He'd looked at Peter, and he'd just thought... _beautiful_.

He knows that, objectively, Peter's not the hottest guy around. Nowhere near it, really. But...Johnny looks at him...and he sure as hell  _feels_ as though Pete's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Oh, god. He's desperately in love with Peter Parker, and he's maybe the last one to know it, except for Peter.

Peter must've noticed of the strange look on his face, because he frowns at him and says, "Torchy, you okay?"

It hits Johnny that he can't tell Peter, not ever, because Peter's already in love with somebody else, which means he can't be in love with Johnny.

"Yeah," Johnny says weakly. "Um, yeah. You have, uh, jam on your face, just FYI."

Peter scrambles to grab a napkin and wipe it off. "Erm, thanks." He squints at Johnny again. "You sure you're okay, though?"

"Yeah," Johnny says, getting to his feet. "Uh, yeah, I just, uh, I need to stop by the station for a few minutes. Uh, I'll be back, okay?"

"But we were gonna go—" Johnny can hear Peter calling after him.

He doesn't stop, just runs straight out of there and keeps running until he gets to Sue's.

* * *

"Emergency!" Johnny bellows when he pushes past Sue and barrels into the apartment. "Defcon One!"

"Whoa," Ben says, springing to his feet from where he'd been watching Saturday morning cartoons with Franklin on the sofa. "What's up, an' who do we gotta clobber?"

"What?" Johnny snaps. "No one, Benjy, there's no one to clobber!"

"Then...what's the emergency?" Reed asks warily, head floating on a neck that stretches all the way from the kitchen. 

"I'm in love with Peter!" Johnny hollers. "And everything sucks!"

"Johnny," Sue chides. "Calm down. I'm sure it's not as bad as all that."

"I'm in love with my best friend and roommate, who, did I mention, is in love with someone else?" Johnny counters. "What part of that _doesn't_ suck?"

"Oh, _brother_ ," Ben says, and heads for the door. "I'll be in the bar."

"It's nine in the morning, Benjy," Johnny tells him. "Isn't it a little early, even for you?"

"Extraordinary circumstances," Ben says. "Extraordinary measures."

He shuts the door behind him. Reed's nowhere in sight either. Johnny sighs and collapses onto the couch. "My family abandoning me in my hour of need. What did I expect?"

" _I'm_ still here. Thanks for noticing," Sue says dryly. "You know neither of them are great with this sort of thing."

"Yeah," Johnny concedes. He looks up at Sue pleadingly. "So what the hell do I do, sis?"

"I think," Sue says, sitting next to him and reaching out to curl a hand around his, "that you need to talk to Peter about how you feel."

"No," Johnny says, eyes wide, shaking his head from side to side. "No! What? That's a terrible idea! I already know he doesn't love me. What's the point in telling him? Other than him kicking me out, I mean."

"He won't kick you out, and I suspect everything's going to be fine, bro. Just tell him."

* * *

Johnny doesn't. He doesn't see the point in saying anything openly. Peter doesn't love him, and he already knows that. All it'll do is screw up their friendship, and Johnny can't let that happen.

Maybe he'll never get the chance to really be with Peter, but at least he can be near him like this. If he told Peter...he doesn't know if Peter'd still let him in the way he does now.

* * *

He does watch Peter like a hawk whenever they're out on the job and interacting with other superheroes. 

Who the hell is this idiot who has Peter freaking Parker in love with him, but doesn't love him back?

He watches Peter with everyone—Matt, Luke, Danny, everyone he can think of—but Peter seems to behave normally around all of them. Either he's a great actor, or it's not any of them. 

Is he in love with someone Johnny doesn't know? Who the hell could it even be?

* * *

Johnny starts realizing exactly how difficult it is to be near but never really with someone he loves so intensely. 

It doesn't help that every second he's with Peter he falls more and more in love with him. 

Oh, god. Johnny is so screwed.

* * *

To say it's a surprise when Johnny wakes up one morning and finds himself both naked and in Peter's bed is a bit of an understatement.

The last thing Johnny remembers is going out for drinks with Peter, Mextli, and her girlfriend Dulce to celebrate Chief Luna promoting him to full-time firefighter the night before. They were at a bar just down the street and drinking and having a great time, and then the next thing he knows, he's waking up in what is definitely Peter's room and not his.

He has sort of a vague memory of getting into an argument with Peter over who the better kisser was, and after that is when things get really hazy, which is a pity because it sounds like that's right when things got interesting.

Well, maybe they didn't have sex. Maybe he just...stumbled into the wrong bed by mistake. That wouldn't really explain the nakedness, he supposes. He doesn't really like wearing clothes when he sleeps, but, still, suspicious.

He props himself up on his elbows and feels soreness in very telling places. Oh, god. He definitely had sex last night. Evidence suggests it was with Peter.

He finally works up the courage to look over, and, yeah, sure enough, there's Peter sleeping next to him. He's on his stomach, head buried in his pillow, and there are hickeys all along the side of his neck and his shoulder that Johnny doesn't remember making, damn it.

Johnny falls back against the bed and tries not to freak out.

He hears Peter grumble in his sleep and roll over, and then an arm is thrown possessively across Johnny's torso, Peter's face nuzzles into his shoulder.

Johnny freezes, caught in a confusing whirl of emotion. 

No, no, no. This isn't what he wants. Some sleepy caresses, a drunken night of casual sex he doesn't even remember? This isn't what he wants.

But then again...Peter's here, with him, and it's more than he ever thought he'd have.

He stares down at Peter's muscular arm, his tanned skin contrasting sharply with the pale skin of Johnny's stomach, and he feels lost. Does he leave and throw on some clothes and pretend like this never happened? Does he stick around until Peter wakes up and see how he feels about this?

He spots his phone on the nightstand, picks it up, and texts Mextli.

 _um_ , he writes. _so...did anything happen with me and pete last night?_

She texts back almost immediately. _u mean like u getting VERY acquainted with his tonsils?_

_cuz yeah that really really happened_

_a lot_

_the bartender was threatening to throw u 2 out_

_:/ boy kissing_

_whoops,_ Johnny texts.

_yeah_

_things work out with you two?_

_not sure yet_

_let you know later_

_pete's still asleep_

_good luck,_ she writes back.  _dulce says good luck too_

Johnny smiles and sets his phone down carefully. His eyes flick over Peter's face and he swallows. He hardly ever gets the chance to just _look_ at Peter as much as he'd like to, and certainly never from this close.

He takes in Peter's messy brown hair, the sharp cut of his jaw, the round fullness of his lips, and then he has to tear his eyes away.

Peter's so damn beautiful, he thinks wistfully. It's really not fair. How was Johnny ever supposed to keep from falling in love with him? There was no way. The minute he asked Peter if he could move in, he was a goner, and he didn't even know it.

He reaches out hesitantly and brushes the tips of his fingers lightly against Peter's cheek. Peter stirs at the whisper of a touch and presses his face closer to Johnny.

Johnny draws his hand back. Yeah, he's staying. He shuts his eyes and tries to pretend, for a little while, at least, that this is real. That this is his life, that he gets to wake up like this every morning, with Peter at his side.

(He knows it isn't at all, and that it maybe won't ever be. He knows that he's probably just a substitute for whoever the hell Peter wants that he can't have. He tries not to think about that.) 

Peter cracks an eye open blearily and stares at Johnny. His eye shuts again, and then it opens, wide, and he springs back and stares at Johnny, shocked.

"Uh, hey," Johnny says, smiling awkwardly. "So this apparently happened."

Peter blinks down at him. "Uh...yeah," he says. He still seems a little out of it. "Uh. Did—did we?"

Johnny nods. "I'm pretty sure, yeah. We apparently also traumatized Mextli and Dulce for life by making out at the bar. A lot. In front of people. No one's going to believe we're not dating now."

"Oh, _god_ ," Peter groans and buries his head in his hands. "Johnny, I'm so—I'm just _so_ sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Johnny's stomach drops. Oh. So Peter does think this is a mistake. "It's okay, Pete," he says, smiling and trying not to let how much Peter's words hurt him show. "It's not really your fault. It's not like you tricked me into it or anything."

"It _is_ my fault," Peter snaps, tearing his hands away from his face. "This isn't how I ever wanted this to happen."

Wait a minute. "You...wanted this to happen?" Johnny asks. He's not...totally sure what's happening right now.

"Well, yeah," Peter says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, when Johnny had no idea. "For a long time. Didn't you know? I always just kind of thought you did, and just didn't...I don't know, care?"

Johnny, speechless, simply shakes his head. Peter has a crush on him? _What_? Since _when_?

Peter hides his face again, which is flushing pink from embarrassment, and mutters, "Great. Now I told you for no damn reason, and you're just gonna think that I'm a pathetic loser who's been pining over you for years."

"Have you been?" Johnny asks, feeling his heart leap. He's not sure where this is headed, exactly, but he kind of likes the direction it's going in. He hopes Peter says yes.

"No!" Peter says sharply, before amending that to, "Maybe a little."

"Wait," Johnny says, eyes widening as it starts to dawn on him. "Wait a minute now. The superhero you're in love with—the one whose name you wouldn't tell me...Pete, is he...is he me?"

Johnny can feel his heart pounding. Oh, god. What if he is?

Peter just looks at Johnny. He doesn't answer, but he doesn't need to, because the answer's written all over his face.

"Oh, my god," Johnny says. "I _am_ him." He turns his face away and lets that sink in. He scrambles to remember exactly what Peter said about him. Something about being all he could think about. Something about how it was eating him up inside and how Johnny didn't feel the same way. Except that he _does_. "I feel so _stupid_ for not realizing that." And then it hits him. "Sue knows. And maybe Ben too. Those _complete_ _jerks_. I am so gonna get them for this, those rat-fink bastards. They knew this whole time, and they didn't say a word to me. How could they do that to me? I thought they loved me."

"Johnny," Peter cuts in, interrupting his very important reverie, which Johnny resents. "Just so you know, this doesn't have to be a big deal if you don't want it to. I mean, clearly you don't feel the same way, and it's okay. Really. This isn't your problem to deal with."

Johnny's head jerks back towards Peter once his words register. He frowns. "Let me get this straight. I'm currently lying naked in your bed after, y'know, _having sex with you_ , but you think I don't feel anything for you."

"Newsflash, Johnny. There's a difference between attraction and love, and I don't want to be someone you have meaningless sex with. I don't really do that, and I...feel too much for you to do that with you anyways. It would be messy, and I can't."

Johnny's jaw tightens. "Is that really what you think I'm like?" he spits out. "Is that really all you think I am? I told you I wasn't like that. I _want_ to be in love with somebody. I _want_ a serious relationship."

Peter gives him a cool look. "I don't want you to be in love with me just because you want to be in love with someone. That's just...not enough. I need this to be about me."

"That's not what this is, Pete," Johnny says earnestly. "I swear to god, that's not what this is. This _is_ about you and how I feel about you. I swear it is."

That brings Peter up short. "What...what do you mean?"

"I mean I love you too, you jackass. I mean, did you even stop to ask me before you decided I didn't?" Johnny asks bitterly.

" _No_ , you don't," Peter says harshly. "You're just saying that because I'm...the flavor of the week. Because there's no one else around, and you're bored and lonely and horny. You don't really love me. You just need a distraction."

"I know how I feel, jerk, and I'm telling you this is how I feel. You don't know how I feel, because I haven't told you, and last I checked, spiders aren't telepathic."

Peter snorts. "Fine," he challenges. "Fine. Then tell me why you love me. If you really do love me as much as you say, you should be able to come up with at least a couple of reasons, right?" He crosses his arms and looks at Johnny expectantly.

Johnny stares at him, mouth a little open, and feels deeply and profoundly horrified. Who does Peter think he is? Johnny doesn't talk about this sort of thing. He's bigger on _showing_ people how he feels than he is on _saying_ it. Saying it is just... _embarrassing_. Who does that? "Oh, come _on_ ," he grouses. "You're not really going to make me say this."

"If you don't, I'm not going to believe you. And, by the way, the list had better not include things like, 'Has nice ass.'"

"Well, but you do?" Johnny says helplessly. "It's one of your best features, really. I also like your arms and your abs and your shoulders. They're very...muscly. 's nice." His eyes flick down to Peter's shoulders, which are riddled with copious amounts of hickeys that must have taken both time and determination on Johnny's part. "I mean, _clearly_ I like your shoulders a lot."

Peter rolls his eyes. "See, I knew it. You're really _not_ serious about this. It _is_ just a sex thing."

He sounds exactly like Ben and Reed and Sue. All of the people who never take him seriously about anything. Johnny's overcome with rage. "I am so _sick_ and _tired_ of no one taking me seriously. Jesus, Pete. I thought you were different."

"I am. Usually. Just. I've seen too many of your girlfriends and boyfriends come and go to put too much faith in this, Johnny. I don't want to be hurt again. You know what I've been through."

Yeah, Johnny does. Pete's lost a lot of people.

Johnny shuts his eyes. "Oh, man. You really _are_ gonna make me say this, aren't you? Oh, you jerk."

Peter shrugs. "Sorry? I guess I just can't believe you could really be in love with me. I mean, why would you be? I'm just a poor schoolteacher from Queens."

"And I'm just a poor firefighter who currently _lives_ in Queens," Johnny snaps. "Literally with you. Your self-loathing thing is really, really  _beyond_ irritating, you know."

"Oh, yeah," Peter snarks. "Keep up that sweet talk, Storm."

"No, but really. It got old a long time ago. You need to stop it, Pete, because you don't deserve it. I mean, Jesus, give yourself a break every now and then, why don't you. Look, I guess I love you because you're..." He struggles to find the words to explain it, but comes up with nothing. "I dunno, because you're _Pete_."

Johnny can't explain it. What 'Pete' means to him. Everything he associates with it. The goodness, the compassion, the kindness, the laughter, the fun, and most of all, the warmth and love and affection. He hopes Peter'll just know. He kind of thought he did, but apparently he was wrong.

"Eloquent, Johnny. I am totally wooed and won over. I was so wrong. You clearly adore me."

Johnny rolls his eyes and curses softly under his breath. "Man, I can't believe you're really making me do this. You are such a jerk, jerkface, and if you ever repeat any of this to anyone, I'll deny I ever said it."

"Sure, Johnny, whatever," Peter says, waving a hand dismissively. He clearly doesn't believe that Johnny's got anything worth saying.

Johnny shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. Well, here he goes. On the list of mortifying things he's had to do in his life, this is pretty high up. "I love you because despite the fact that you're being a total jerk at the moment, normally you're...amazing, Pete. I mean, you've...you've been through hell and back, and lost so much, and you're still...kind and selfless and brave. Everyone in this apartment building loves you, because you always take the time to help them out, no matter how busy you are. Because you're always so busy thinking about everybody else that you hardly even take care of yourself. Man, I wish I could be like that. You don't know how often I wish I could be what you are without even _trying_. You don't help people because you want to be famous, or rich, or even thanked. You do it because that's...just who you are. I think you're the best man I ever met, Pete, and I think I'd be lucky to have you. You make me want to be better than I am. Everything I've done these last few months—Peter, I did them because I wanted to be more like you. I know I make fun of you all the time, but, Pete, I really admire you. Always have. Always." 

Johnny stares up at the ceiling and waits for Peter to say something. He chews at his lower lip nervously.

He waits and waits, but Peter doesn't say a thing. 

Finally, he works up the courage to say, "Well? Did I convince you that I'm serious enough about you to date you, you jerk?"

Peter still doesn't say anything. Johnny risks a glance over at him. Peter's just frowning at him. For the life of him, Johnny can't tell what Peter's thinking.

But whatever. He can guess. Pete doesn't think it's enough. He doesn't think Johnny's good enough either. Story of Johnny's life.

Johnny rolls his eyes. "Fine," he snaps. "I get the message. I'm not good enough for you. You don't have to say it."

He starts to get out of bed, but he stops when he hears Peter say hoarsely, "Wait. You...really feel like that about me?"

Johnny stops and looks back. Well. Maybe now he's getting somewhere. "Yeah," he says sincerely. "Yeah. That's exactly how I've always felt about you. I just. I'm an idiot and I didn't realize what it _meant_. But I do now, Pete, I swear. This isn't going away, not ever."

That seems to at least placate Peter. He reaches out a hand and drags it up Johnny's arm slowly. It makes Johnny shiver, a trail of goosebumps arise in its wake. He smooths his hand up to cradle Johnny's neck, and then he looks up at Johnny, eyes dark and full of lust, and all he says is, "Johnny."

He cups his hand around the back of Johnny's neck and tugs him down, and Johnny lets him. Peter kisses him then, gentle and slow, and Johnny moans and melts against his lips. This is exactly what he's been wanting for _such_ a long time. Before he even knew he wanted it.

Peter pulls back ever so slightly and gazes up at Johnny with that look in his eyes—passion, lust, need—that Johnny thinks is surely going to kill him one of these days.

"So, does this mean you believe me now?" Johnny asks breathlessly.

"No," Peter says. "But it means I'm starting to."

He takes that as his cue to surge up and grab both of Johnny's shoulders, unceremoniously shoving him back against the mattress.

Johnny can feel his heart pounding hard in his chest when Peter leans down towards him. "You know," he says. "We're already naked. It seems kind of a waste not to—"

"Time to shut up now, Johnny," Peter says, and then his mouth is on Johnny's again, and there's nothing slow or gentle about this kiss, or what happens afterwards.

* * *

When they make love for the first time they remember, it hardly even feels like it is. It feels, somehow, as though this is where everything was always heading. As though every interaction they've had since they were teenagers was always going to end like this—them, together, here—one way or another. It feels like this was always meant to be.

It feels like this is... _right_. Johnny just knows, bone-deep, that this is the one that'll last forever.

Peter's who he was always supposed to be with. Maybe that's why none of his other relationships worked out, he realizes. None of them were right, because none of them were Peter. Because Peter's the one he's always been looking for.

Maybe he had to lose all of the things he thought he needed in order to find the one thing he's always wanted.

He feels stupid. Peter's been standing right next to him for years, desperately in love with him, but he's always been too blind—too caught up in the glamor and the heady rush of being a celebrity superhero—to ever see it.

But he sees it now, sees Peter now, and he'll never, ever give him up.

Now if he could only convince Peter of that.

* * *

Johnny marches over to see Sue and Ben the minute Peter takes off for work on Monday. He yells at them for an hour. 

How can they not have told him that Peter was in love with him? How can they not have told him he was in love with Peter? He knows they knew!

They just howl with laughter until Sue's face is bright red and they're both practically crying. They really are in no condition to get anything resembling a full sentence out, so they don't really defend themselves.

It's _not_ funny. Those jerks.

* * *

Johnny starts flipping through old photos on his Instagram one day, just because it's his day off and he's bored and Peter's off at work, so there's nothing else to do. 

He finds the one he took at the school the day he moved in with Peter. He smiles fondly at the memory, but something in Peter's face just catches his eye.

Yeah, Peter looks exasperated, which is all he'd seen in it at the time, but it's unmistakably mingled with...love. That is the face of someone who is clearly very much in love. 

He can't stop staring at it. 

He doesn't know how he never noticed. It's so obvious it's blinding. _How_ _did he never notice before_?

He goes through all of the pictures he can find of him and Peter, and, yeah, in every one of them, Peter's got the same look on his face. 

He's guessing this is how Sue and Ben knew before he did. By which he means they have eyes, and Johnny apparently doesn't.

Johnny sits back against the couch, stares at the wall, and takes a few moments to let himself feel deeply stupid.

He's an idiot. He's a complete idiot for never noticing what's been right in front of his face the whole time.

He spent all of that time searching Peter's face to see who he looked at differently, that he never noticed that it was _him_. Peter was looking like this at _him_.

All this time. Right in front of his nose.

He puts his head in his hands and groans. Oh, god. He's so _stupid_. He's wasted so much time, frittered it all away on supermodels and rock stars and movie stars, when he could've been with Peter all along. He wishes he'd been smart enough to notice years ago.

* * *

When Peter gets home, hours later, Johnny's still on the couch, still staring obsessively at those photos.

"I'm so _stupid_ ," he tells Peter.

"Well, you'll get no argument from me," Peter says cheerfully. "What brought this on?"

"I've been looking at pictures of you and me," Johnny tells him. "It's so obvious you're in love with me. Oh, god. How did I never _notice_ , Pete? I'm so _stupid_."

"Yeah," Peter says, walking around the couch and wrapping his arms around Johnny's shoulders so he can peer at the computer screen. "I always wondered a little how you hadn't. Literally everybody else did. I kept wondering why you would post those pictures of us so everyone could see them."

"Well, I wouldn't've if I'd known," Johnny says, throwing up his hands. "But no one ever tells me anything."

"Hmm," Peter says. "I guess it's 'cause we all forget exactly how stupid you are sometimes."

Johnny cranes his neck so he can glare at him. 

Peter grins brightly and kisses his cheek. "But I love you anyways?"

For the first time, hearing that doesn't make Johnny feel better.

"Look, what's done is done," Peter tells him. "Why is this upsetting you so much anyways?"

"Because we could've been together," Johnny says. "This whole time. If I hadn't been as stupid as I am."

"Things happen when they're supposed to," Peter tells him. "Maybe you weren't ready to know until now."

"Yeah," Johnny concedes. "Maybe."

Peter kisses his cheek again. "Hey, I'm starved," he says, heading towards the kitchen. "What's for dinner, babe?"

Whoops. Johnny was so busy kicking himself in the ass mentally he forgot to make dinner. "Uh...pizza? The take-out kind?"

Peter freezes in the doorway to the kitchen and turns back to glower at Johnny. "You forgot to make dinner again, didn't you?"

"Uh..." There's no point in lying, Johnny's sure. "Yes. Yes, I did."

Peter sighs and pulls out his cell phone so he can call the pizza place. "Sometimes I hate you."

* * *

There's only one dark spot to mar the joy of their new relationship. Johnny begins to notice that whenever he talks about the two of them doing something as a couple in the future, Peter always shuts down, grows quiet and distant.

Johnny realizes belatedly that Peter never wants to talk about their future at all. He seems to think that this is all he has with Johnny, this moment, today, right now. 

Whenever they have sex, there's an edge of desperation to it that breaks Johnny's heart. It's like Peter never knows whether this will be the last time he'll ever get to be with Johnny, like he's afraid he'll lose Johnny from one day to the next.

Peter still can't bring himself believe that this is real, that it's going to last. 

Johnny doesn't know how to convince him. Doesn't know how to do anything more than what he's already doing.

* * *

Things come to a head the night Johnny finds out the FF have got all of their money back, and the Baxter Building.

He and Peter show up for a family dinner at Sue's, and the minute they get through the door, they know something's up.

Reed and Sue and Ben are beaming at them, clearly overjoyed about something.

"You'll never guess what happened!" Sue says, practically clapping her hands together from excitement. 

"It's wonderful news!" Reed says.

"We got our money back, Matchstick, so you don't gotta live in the boondocks anymore," Ben announces.

"Oh," Johnny says, not very enthusiastically, not quite sure how he feels about this. 

Peter turns and walks out of the apartment without a word.

"What got into him?" Sue says, frowning after him.

"'scuse me," Johnny mutters, and follows after him.

Peter's slumping against the wall of the hallway, head bowed, covering his eyes with his hand. He looks...broken. 

"Pete?" Johnny says warily. "What's up? You're freaking me out a little."

Peter tears his hand away from his hand and straightens up. He plasters a smile onto his face and says, trying his best to be cheerful, "You've got your money back, pal! That's great! I'm really, really happy for you."

"Peter," Johnny says. It's just disturbing trying to watch him try to pretend to be happy. "Stop."

Peter slumps back against the wall and his all-too-transparent facade crumbles. "Sorry," he says. "I just. I knew I'd never get to keep you forever, but I didn't think—" He takes a few deep breaths to steady himself. He's falling to pieces. "I just never thought it'd be this _soon_. I hardly had any time with you at all." He gives Johnny a wan smile. He's trying his best to be brave for Johnny. "But don't worry about me. I'll be fine. You should go in, be with your family. I, uh, I think I'm gonna take off, though. Sorry. And, no—no hard feelings, you know? I mean, I get it. Why would you pick me and my sad little life and my dingy little apartment when you could have your old life back? I get it, really. We can still be friends, like before, if that's what you want."

"I don't want that," Johnny says. "I don't want that at all."

"Oh," Peter says, looking like he's been slapped. "Okay. I mean if you don't want to see me again, I guess I get it."

"No," Johnny says. "You _complete_ moron. That's not what I meant. I meant that I don't want to _just_ be friends. I meant that I've been happier these last few weeks with you than I can ever remember being before. I might've been rich, Pete, but I was miserable, because I didn't have _you_. I happen to love you, idiot. And I love our life together, and our dingy little apartment, and I'm not giving it up. I pick _you_ , jackass, and I'll pick you every time. I don't want my old life back. I like this one. I'll like anything, as long as it's got you in it. I just _know_ that I'm supposed to be with you for the rest of my life. The same way I knew being a fireman was what I was supposed to do. It feels right. _You_ feel right. I. Am. Not. Leaving. You."

"And you're sure about this?" Peter says breathlessly. 

"Yeah, Pete, I'm really sure," Johnny says. "I'd rather be poor with you in Queens than rich without you in the Baxter Building." He smiles and holds out his hand. Peter reaches out and takes it in his. "C'mon. Let's go tell my family the news. Let's hope no one faints."

Peter looks up at him and smiles back. "I love you," he says.

"I know, Pete," Johnny says, tossing an arm around Peter's shoulders. "I know." 

"You're supposed to say you love me back," Peter tells him dryly.

"Well, I have been, but you never buy it. So if I do, will you believe me this time?" Johnny says. "Or are you gonna keep being stupid about this?"

"Try it and see."

Judging by the way Peter kisses him afterwards, Johnny has to assume that Peter believes him.

* * *

"I'm staying with Peter in Queens," Johnny announces to his family once they get back inside. 

"Hardy har har," Ben says. "Pull the other one, why don't ya?"

"I'm serious," Johnny says, scowling. "I'm staying in Queens with Peter and I'm keeping my job. I'll make do on my own, thanks."

"You really mean this?" Sue asks, like she's not sure if this is a joke or if Johnny's serious.

"Yeah," Johnny says as sincerely as he can. "I love Peter, and I'm staying with him."

"You _could_ always bring Peter with you to the Baxter Building," Reed points out.

Johnny checks with Peter, who shakes his head. "No," Johnny says. "We're happy in Queens, thanks. We have friends there. A life we worked hard to build. Besides, I kind of like it now. Especially our apartment building. I mean, who's gonna help Mrs. Lemkin with her groceries, or Lilah with her math homework, if we aren't there? And I worked damn hard to get to be a firefighter. There's no way I'm givin' it up just 'cause I'm rich now."

"Lemme get this straight," Ben says, squinting at Johnny. "You, the guy who used ta complain about even havin' ta be seen in Queens, are now gonna live there instead o' Manhattan, just cuz you're in love an' you like yer neighbors an' yer job? I don't buy it."

"I dunno. I kind of buy it. My brother's quite the romantic, if you haven't noticed. Watch out for sky hearts," she warns Peter.

Peter scrunches up his nose. "Duly noted."

"Sis!" Johnny says indignantly. "Stop! You're giving away all of my best moves! I was saving that for a special occasion!"

"Aw, babe," Peter coos, patting Johnny's back consolingly. "No, she isn't."

"You're really stayin' in Queens, then?" Ben says, like he still can't quite buy it.

"And working to support yourself?" Reed adds. "For the first time in your life?"

"And in a stable, long-term relationship?" Sue finishes.

"Yes!" Johnny says, exasperated. "Is it really that hard to believe?"

Reed considers that for a second and then says, "Yes, actually."

"Li'l bit, yes," Ben says.

"Eh," Peter says. "I gotta admit, I'm having trouble believing it myself, babe."

" _But_ ," Sue interrupts, holding up a finger, "no matter what happens, or what you decide later, we're all very proud of you, Johnny, for pulling all of this off so far. Looks like maybe you finally have grown up."

Ben snorts. "We'll just have ta see about that."

"A little bit," Peter says. "He's grown up a little bit. I mean, he put shaving cream in my shoes this morning."

Johnny can't help it, he titters. "Yeah, that was _classic_. Your _face_ , Pete!"

"You see?" Peter says. "He's not _that_ grown-up."

"Yeah," Ben says. "Okay. That's more like it. Fer a second there I thought someone mighta replaced 'im with a Skrull or somethin'."

"I'm not a Skrull," Johnny protests, very dignified. "I'm just hella responsible now. And respectable and all of that. It's not my fault if I am and you aren't, you big lug."

He's not happy at how hard they all laugh at that. He sighs. He really _doesn't_ know what he's going to have to do to prove to everyone that he really has changed. Maybe they'll believe it in twenty years, when he and Peter have been married for years and he's the chief of a fire station.

Yeah, that sounds like it'll be nice. He's actually kind of looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to end with Johnny--as a firefighter--rescuing a lot of people from a big fire and winding up in the hospital because of it, and everyone being very proud of him. And then a huge rooftop apartment building party so they can all celebrate their new favorite hero. (Peter's very annoyed that he's not anymore (he's actually FROM Queens, thanks) and happy for Johnny at the same time.)
> 
> Sadly, I didn't have time to write it in time. Maybe I'll write a continuation later.
> 
> Feel free to come chat with me on [tumblr](http://timelordsandladies.tumblr.com/)!


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